CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(li/ionographs) 


ICIMH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographles) 


Canadian  Inttituta  for  Historical  Microraproductions  /  inatitut  Canadian  da  microraproductiona  historiquaa 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  tMst  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibiiographicaily  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  below. 


D 
D 


Coloured  covers  / 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged  / 
Couverture  endonmiagte 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Couverture  restaurto  et/bu  pellicula 


D 
D 
D 


D 


D 


Cover  title  missing  /  Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  gtegraphiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)  / 
Encre  de  couleur  (I.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Cotoured  plates  and/or  illustrattons  / 
Planches  et/ou  itiustrattons  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material  / 
ReM  avec  d'autres  documents 

Only  editton  available  / 
Seule  dditton  disponible 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortkm  atong 
interior  margin  /  La  raliure  serr6e  peut  causer  de 
I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsion  le  tong  de  la  marge 
int^rieure. 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restorattons  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have  been 
omitted  from  filming  /  Use  peut  que  certaines  pages 
blanches  ajouttes  lors  d'une  restauration 
apparaissent  dans  le  texte,  mais.  torsque  cela  6m 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  6\6  filmtes. 

Addittonai  comments  / 
Convnentaires  suppldmentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microflln)*  le  meilleur  exemptaire  qu'ii  lui  a 
M  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exem- 
ptaire qui  sent  peut-«tre  unk|ues  du  point  de  vue  bibii- 
ographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image  r^roduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modifk»tion  dans  la  mAtho- 
de  normale  de  filmage  sont  indk^ute  ci-dessous. 

I     I  CokMjred  pages/ Pages  de  couleur 

I I  Pages  damaged/ Pages  endommagtes 

□  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Pages  restaurtes  et/ou  pellicul^s 

0  Pages  discotoured.  stained  or  foxed  / 
Pages  dteotortes,  tachettes  ou  pk]utes 

I     I  Pages  detached/ Pages  d^tach^es 

\y\  Showthrough/ Transparence 

□  Quality  of  print  varies  / 
Quaiitd  in^e  de  I'impresston 

Includes  supplementary  material  / 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppMmentairo 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  ti  rf>ts  sHps, 
tissues,  etc..  have  been  refilmed  to  ensui*;  h^  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  totalement  ou 
partiellement  obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une 
pelure.  etc.,  ont  M  fiintdes  &  nouveau  de  fafon  k 
obtenir  ia  meilleure  image  possible. 

Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
discokxirattons  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant  ayant  des 
colorations  variables  ou  des  decolorations  sont 
fiftntes  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la  nrwiileure  image 
posstt)le. 


D 
D 


D 


This  Ham  is  fflfiMd  M  th*  rtduetion  ratie  etwdnd 
C«  doeunwnt  Mt  flbni  mi  taitt  d*  rMuetion 


indiqiiA  et^imtowt. 


lOx 

14x 

Ite 

" 

22X 

26x 

30x 

y 

12x 

16x 

20x 

241 

2tx 

32x 

The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

NitloMi  Library  of  Canada 


L'  exemplaire  filnn^  fut  reproduit  grAce  k  la 
g6n6rosit6  de: 

Blblfotlwqiw  national*  du  Canada 


This  title  was  microfilmed  with  the  generous 
permission  of  the  rights  holder: 

David  H.  Stringer  and  Hugh  A.  Strlngm- 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility  of 
the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the  filming 
contract  specifications. 

Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on  the 
last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impression,  or 
the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All  other  original 
copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the  first  page  with  a 
printed  or  illustrated  impression,  and  ending  on  the 
last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche  shall 
contain  the  symbol  ^(meaning  "CONTINUED"),  or 
the  symbol  ▼  (meaning  "END"),  whichever  applies. 

Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed  begin- 
ning in  the  upper  left  hand  comer,  left  to  right  and 
top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as  required.  The 
following  diagrams  illustrate  the  method: 


Ce  titre  a  «t6  microfilm*  avec  I'aimable  autorisatlon 
du  d^tenteur  des  droits: 

David  H.  Strlngar  and  Hugh  A.  Strlngor 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  *t6  reprodultes  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et  de 
la  nettet*  de  I'exemplaire  fllm6,  et  en  conformity 
avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de  fllmage. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprim6e  sont  film^s  en  commen^ant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
derni6re  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte  d'im- 
pression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second  plat, 
selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires  origin- 
aux sont  film^s  en  commen?ant  par  la  premiere 
page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte  d'impression  ou 
d'illustration  et  en  temiinant  par  la  derni^re  page 
qui  comporte  une  telle  empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparattra  sur  la 
derni6re  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le  cas- 
te symbols  -♦  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le  symbols  V 
signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  6tre 
film6s  k  des  taux  de  rdduction  diff6rents.  Lorsque 
le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre  reproduit  en 
un  seul  clich6,  il  est  film*  k  partir  de  Tangle 
sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  h  droite.  et  de  haut 
en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre  d  'images 
n6cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants  illustrent  la 
m^thode. 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MKROCOrr  MSOUITION  TKT  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  Ho.  2) 


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14.0 


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d    >IPPLIED  IIVMGE    Ir 


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CANADA 


NATIONAL  LIBRARY 
BIBLIOTHEQUE  NATIONALE 


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L^  ^  ^  "^  vCe,^V^ 


THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 


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1 


I  could  feel  the  sting  of  the  powder  smoke 


on  ray  np-thntst  wrist 


p. 


<~.  r;.'  r-  '■.  ft 


TtSNa^ 


257220 


CoprmoHT  1919 
The  Bom-MiRMu.  CoMPANr 


7 


Print*d  <n  tht  VnUei  Statu  of  AmtHom 


To  Htntj,  of  the  dome-like  pate. 
The  dreamy  eye,  the  Cddc  wh 

And  kindly  heart,  I  dedicate 

This  blithe  rmnance  ccmcetred  and  wiit 

By  one  of  that  triumvirate 

Who  knew  Defeat,  yet  camjixred  it. 


Hm 


CONTENTS 


euAmm 

I  Running  Out  op  Pay-Dirt 

II  Thk  Ox-Blood  Vasb 

III  Trk  Stolen  Whsel-Cocb 

IV  The  Open  Door     . 

V   The  Man  prom  Medicine  Hat 
VI    The  Irreproachable  Butler 
VII    The  Panama  Gold  Chbsts 
VIII    The  Dummy-Chuckbr 
IX   A  Rialto  Rain-Storm  • 
X   The  Thumb-Tap  Clue 
XI    The  Nilb<jrben  Roadster 


1 
26 

68 
87 
120 
160 
180 
211 
249 
280 
810 


If 


THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 


The  Man  Who  Couldn't  Sleep 

*» 
CHAPTER  I 

RUNNING  OUT  OF  PAY-DIRT 

IX)  begin  with,  I  am  a  Canadian  by  birth,  and 
Th.  ^"^-^"^  y^^  old.  For  nine  of  those  years 
I  have  hved  m  New  York.  And  by  my  friends  in  that 
city  1  am  regarded  as  a  successful  author. 

There  was  a  time  when  I  even  regarded  myself  in 
mucli  the  same  light  But  that  period  is  past  I 
now  have  to  face  the  fact  that  I  am  a  failure.  For 
when  a  man  is  no  longer  aWe  to  write  he  naturally 
can  no  longer  be  reckoned  as  an  author. 

I  have  made  the  name  of  Witte.  KtTf oot  too  weU 
toown,  I  think,  to  explain  that  practicaUy  all  of  my 
stones  have  been  written  about  Alaska.    Just  why  I 
resorted  to  that  far-off  country  for  my  settings  is  still 
niore  or  Iws  a  mystery  to  me.    Perhaps  it  was  merely 
b«auj«  of  Its  far-offness.     Perhaps  it  was  because 
toe  editors  remembered  that  I  came  from  the  land  of 
toe  beaver  and  sagely  concluded  that  a  Canadian  would 
be  most  at  home  in  writing  about  the  Frozen  North 
At  any  rate,  when  I  romanced  about  the  Yukon  and 
Its  ice-bound  trails  they  bought  my  stories,  and  asked 
lor  nK>re. 

And  I  gave  them  more.     I  gave  them  bfood-red 
fiction  about  gun-men  and  claim-jumpers  and  Siwash 

I 


a      THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

queens  and  salmon  fisheries.  I  gave  them  supermen 
of  iron,  fighting  against  cold  and  hunger,  and  snarl' 
ing,  always  snarling,  at  their  foes.  I  gave  them  ora- 
torical young  engineers  with  clear-cut  features  and 
•sinews  of  steel,  battling  against  the  forces  of  hyper- 
ix)rean  evil.  I  gave  them  fist-fights  that  caused 
-my  books  to  be  discreetly  shut  out  of  school-libraries 
yet  brought  in  telegrams  from  motion-picture  direct- 
ors for  first  rights.  I  gave  them  enough  gun-play  to 
shoot  Chilcoot  Pass  into  the  middle  of  the  Pacific, 
and  was  publicly  denominated  as  the  apostle  of  the 
Eye-Socket  School,  and  during  the  threc-hundred- 
night  run  of  my  melodrama,  T/ie  Pole  Raiders,  even 
beheld  on  the  Broadway  sign-boards  an  extraordinarily 
stalwart  picture  of  myself  in  a  rakish  Stetson  and  a 
Jiannel  shirt  very  much  open  at  the  throat,  with  a  cow- 
hide holster  depending  from  my  Herculean  waist-line 
and  a  very  dreadful-looking  six-shooter  protruding 
from  the  open  top  of  that  belted  holster.  My  pub- 
lishers spoke  of  me,  for  business  reasons,  as  the  In- 
terpreter of  the  Great  Northwest.  And  I  exploited 
that  territory  with  the  industry  of  a  badger.  In  my 
own  way,  I  nined  Alaska.  And  it  brought  me  in  a 
very  respectable  amount  of  pay-dirt 

But  I  knew  nothing  about  Alaska.  I  had  never 
even  seen  the  country.  I  "crammed  up"  on  it,  of 
course,  the  same  as  we  used  to  cram  up  for  a  third- 
form  examination  in  Latin  grammar.  I  perused  the 
atlases  and  sent  for  governmental  reports,  and  pored 
over  the  R.  N.  W.  M.  P.  Blue  Books,  and  gleaned  a 
hundred  or  so  French-Canadian  names  for  half-breed 


RUNNING  OUT  OF  PAY-DIRT  3 

villains  from  a  telq)hone-djTectoiy  for  the  city  of 
Montreal.  But  I  knew  no  more  about  Alaska  than 
a  Fiji  Islander  knows  about  the  New  Yofk  Stock  Ex- 
change. And  that  was  why  I  could  romance  so  freely, 
so  magnificently,  about  it! 

I  was  equally  prodigal  of  Wood,  I  suppose,  because 
I  had  never  seen  the  real  thing  flow— except  in  the 
ru.c  of  my  little  niece,  when  her  tonsils  had  been  re- 
moved and  a  very  soft-spoken  nurse  had  helped  me 
out  of  the  surgery  and  given  me  a  drink  of  ice-water, 
after  telling  me  it  would  be  best  to  keep  my  head  as 
low  as  possible  until  I  was  feeling  better.     As  for 
firearms,  I  abhorred  them.    I  never  shot  off  an  air- 
rifle  without  first  shutting  my  eyes.    I  never  picked  up 
a  duck-gun  without  a  wince  of  aversion.    So  I  was 
able  to  do  wonderful  things  with  firearms,  on  paper. 
And  with  the  Frozen  Yukon  and  firearms  combined,. 
I  was  able  to  work  miracles.    I  gave  a  whole  continent 
goose-flesh,  so  many  tunes  a  season.    And  the  conti- 
nent seemed  to  enjoy  it,  for  those  airy  essays  in  iron 
and  gore  were  always  paid  for,  and  paid  for  at  higher 
and  higher  rates. 

While  this  was  taking  place,  something  even  more 
important  was  taking  place,  something  which  finally 
brought  me  in  touch  with  Mary  Lockwood  herself. 
It  was  accident  more  than  anything  else,  I  think,  that 
first  launched  me  in  what  is  so  indefim*tdy  and  often 
so  disparagingly  known  as  society.  Society,  as  a  rule, 
admits  only  the  lions  of  my  calling  across  its  sacred 
portals.  And  even  these  lions,  I  found,  were  accepted 
under  protest  or  the  wing  of  some  commendable  effort 


f»^' 


P 


4      THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

for  dttrity.  and  having  roared  thdr  little  hour,  were 
let  pas8quieUy  out  to  obUvion  again.  Btttlhadbeen 
lucky  enough  to  bring  letters  to  the  P^ytom  and  to 
the  Gruger-Phihnores,  and  these  old  families,  I  will 
be  honest  enough  to  confess,  had  been  foolish  enouffh 
to  like  me.  ^ 

So  from  the  first  I  did  mjr  best  to  live  up  to 
those  earlier  affiliations.  I  found  myself  passed  on. 
from  one  mysteriously  barricaded  sechision  to  the 
other.  The  tea-hour  vidt  merged  into  the  formal 
dinner,  and  the  formal  dinner  into  the  even  more 
formal  box  at  the  Horse-Show,  and  then  a  call  to 
fill  up  a  niche  at  the  Metropolitan  on  a  Caruso-night, 
or  a  vacancy  for  an  Assembly  Dance  at  Sherry's,  or  a 
week  at  Tuxedo,  in  winter,  when  the  skating  was 
good. 

I  woriced  hard  to  keep  up  my  end  of  the  game.    But 
I  was  an  impostor,  of  course,  all  along  the  line.    I 
<oon  saw  that  I  had  to  prove  more  than  acceptable;  I 
liad  also  to  prove  dependdf\    That  I  was  a  writer 
meant  nothing  whatever  to  tliose  people.    They  had 
scant  patience  with  the  long-haired  genius  type.  That 
went  down  only  with  musicians.    So  I  soon  learned 
to  keep  my  bangs  clipped,  my  trousers  creased,  and 
my  necktie  inside  my  coat-lapcls.    I  also  learned  to 
use  my  wits,  and  how  to  key  my  talk  up  to  dowager 
or  down  to  dejutante,  and  how  to  be  passably  amus- 
ing even  before  the  champagne  course  had  arrived. 
I  made  it  a  point  to  remember  engagements  and  an- 
niversaries, and  more  than  once  sent  flowers  and 
Millairds,  which  I  went  hungry  to  pay  for.     Even 


RUNNING  OUT  OF  PAY-DIRT 


my  pou'hoire*  to  butlert  tnd  footmen  and  matdt  stood 
a  matter,  in  those  earlier  days,  for  much  secret  and 
seduloiis  consideration. 

But,  IS  I  have  said,  I  tried  to  keep  up  my  end.  I 
Uked  those  hu^  and  orderly  houses.  I  liked  the 
quiet-mannered  people  who  lived  in  them.  I  liked 
looking  at  life  with  their  hill-top  unconcern  for  triviali- 
ties. I  grew  rather  contemptuous  of  my  humUer 
feltow-workers  who  haunted  the  neighborhood  theaters 
and  the  red-inkeries  of  Greenwich  Village,  and  orated 
Socialism  and  bhmk-verse  poems  to  garret  audiences, 
and  wore  window-curtain  cravats  and  cdlutoid  blink- 
ers with  big  round  lenses,  and  went  in  joyous  and  car»- 
mel-eating  groups  to  the  "rush"  seats  at  RigoUtto.  I 
was  accepted,  as  I  have  akeady  tried  to  explain,  at:  an 
impecunious  but  dependable  young  bachebr.  And 
I  suppose  I  could  have  kept  on  at  that  role,  year  after 
year,  until  I  developed  into  a  foppish  and  somewhat 
threadbare  okl  beau.  But  about  this  time  I  was  giv- 
ing North  America  its  first  spasms  of  goose-flesh  with 
my  demigod  type  of  Gibsonian  engineer  who  fought 
the  viOain  until  his  flannel  shirt  was  in  rags  and  then 
shook  his  fist  in  Nature's  face  when  she  dogged  him 
with  the  Eternal  Cokl.  And  there  was  money  in 
writing  for  flat-dwellers  about  that  Eternal  Cold,  and 
about  battling  daw  to  chw  and  fang  to  fang,  and 
about  eye-sockets  without  any  eyes  in  them.  My  in- 
come gathered  like  a  snow-balL  And  as  it  gathered  I 
began  to  fed  that  I  ought  to  have  an  establishment— 
not  a  badc-room  studio  in  Washington  Square,  nor  s 
garret  hi  die  A^Uage  of  tiie  Free-Versers,  nor  a  mere 


w 

m 


6       THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEER 

•putmcnt  in  the  West  Sixtiet,  nor  evtn  a  ^hipiac 
overloddng  Central  Parte  South.  I  wanted  to  be 
aomething  more  than  a  number.  I  wanted  a  house,  a 
liouse  of  mjr  own,  and  a  cat-footed  butler  to  put  a 
Iddtory-log  on  the  fire,  and  a  full  set  of  Sivres  on  my 
mahogany  sideboard,  and  something  to  stretch  a  strip 
of  red  carpet  across  when  the  landaulets  and  the 
limousines  rolled  up  to  my  door. 

So  I  took  a  nine-year  lease  of  the  Whighams*  house 
in  Gramercy  Square.  It  was  old-fashioned  and  sedate 
and  unpretentious  to  the  passing  eye,  but  beneath  that 
eomewhat  somber  sheU  nested  an  amazingly  rich  kernel 
of  luxuriousness.  It  wasgood  form;  it  wasunbeliev 
ably  comfortable,  and  it  was  not  what  the  dm&er 
dutches  for.  The  cost  of  even  a  nine-year  chum  on 
it  rather  took  my  breath  away,  but  the  thought  of 
Alaska  always  served  to  stiflfen  up  my  courage; 

It  was  necessary  to  think  a  good  deal  about  Akska 

in  those  days,  for  after  I  had  acquired  my  house  I 

also  had  to  acquire  a  man  to  run  it,  and  then  a  couple 

of  other  people  to  help  the  man  who  helped  me,  and 

then  a  town  car  to  take  me  back  and  forth  from  it, 

and  then  a  chauffeur  to  take  care  of  the  car,  and  then 

the  service-clothes  for  the  chauffeur,  and  the  thousand  ' 

and  one  unlocked  for  things,  in  short,  which  confront 

the  pin-feather  householder  and  keep  him  from  feeling 

too  much  a  lord  of  creation. 

Yet  in  Benson,  my  butler,  I  undoubtedly  found  a 
g:em  of  the  first  water.  He  moved  about  as  silent  as 
a  panther,  yet  as  watchful  as  an  eagle.  He  couW  be 
tdriquitous  and  self-obliterating  at  one  and  the 


RUNNING  OUT  OF  PA^^XRT 


tine.  H«  wts  taedawN  incamatt,  and  yet  he  coold 
coerce  me  into  a  predctemitiied  line  ol  conduct  at 
inexorablx  aa  steel  railt  lead  a  ttreet-car  along  ita 
predeatined  line  of  traffic.  He  was»  in  lact,  mudi 
more  than  a  butler.  He  waa  a  vakt  and  a  (*«/  d^ 
adimg  and  a  lord-higb-chamberlain  and  a  purchaainf- 
agent  and  a  body-guard  and  a  benignant-ey«d  old  god- 
father all  in  one.  The  man  babitd  me.  I  could  tee 
that  all  along.  But  I  waa  aheai|y  an  overworked 
and  slightly  neurasthenic  ^edmen,  even  in  those  days, 
and  I  was  glad  enough  to  have  that  masked  and  silent 
Efficiency  always  at  my  elbow.  There  were  times,  too^ 
when  his  activitiea  merged  mto  those  of  a  trained 
nunc,  for  when  I  smoked  too  much  he  hid  away  my 
dgars,  and  when  I  worked  too  hard  he  impersonally 
remembered  what  momfaig  horseback  ridtiv  ^  ^ 
park  had  done  for  a  former  master  of  hia.  And  when 
I  drifted  into  the  use  of  chknral  hydrate,  to  make  me 
sleep,  that  dangerous  little  bottle  had  the  habit  of 
disappearing,  mysteriously  and  inec|^cabty  <f!t  ippear- 
mg,  from  its  allotted  place  in  my  bathroom  cabinet 

There  was  just  one  thing  in  which  Benson  disa^ 
pointed  me.  That  was  in  his  stidbbom  and  unreason- 
able aMrerskm  to  Latreille,  my  French  dumffeur.  For 
Latreine  waa  as  efficient,  m  his  way,  as  Benson  him- 
self. He  undentood  his  car,  he  understood  the  traffic 
rules,  and  he  understood  what  I  wanted  of  him. 
Latreille  was,  after  a  mannur  of  speakuig,  a  find  of 
my  own.  Dinhig  one  night  at  the  Peytons',  I  had  met 
the  C(»mussic»ia'  of  PoHc^  ^i^  had  i^ven  me  a 
card  to  stroll  through  Headquarters  and  inqieot  the 


■i'" 


8   THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP  ' 

machinery  of  the  law.    I  had  happened  on  Latrdlle  as 
he  was  being  measured  and  "mugged"  m  the  Identifi- 
cation Bureau,  with  those  odd-looking  BertiUon  forceps 
takmg  his  cranial  measurements.    The  intelligence  of 
the  man  mterested  me;  the  inalienable  look  of  re- 
spectabihty  in  his  face  convinced  me.  as  a  student  of 
human  nature,  that  he  was  not  meant  for  any  such 
fate  or  any  such  environment    And  when  I  looked 
into  his  case  I  found  that  instinct  had  not  been  amiss. 
The  unfortunate  fellow  had  been  "framed"  for  a  car- 
theft  of  which  he  was  entirely  innocent     He  ex- 
•plained  aU  this  to  me,  in  fact,  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 
And  circumstances,  when  I  looked  into  them,  bore 
out  his  statements.    So  I  /isited  the  Commissioner, 
and  was  passed  on  to  the  Probation  Officers,  from 
whom  I  caromed  off  to  the  Assistant  District-Attoraey 
who  in  turn  delegated  me  to  another  official,  who  was 
qmic^enough  to  suggest  that  the  prisoner  might  pos- 

nJl^-     f."^  'H  ""^  ^^^«^  *°  «">  *°  *he  extent 
of  bonding  him.    This  I  very  promptly  did,  for  I  was 

now  determined  to  see  poor  LatreiUc  once  more  a  rree 
man. 

LatreiUe  showed  his  appreciation  of  my  efforts  by 
saving  me  seven  hundred  dollars  when  I  bought  my 
town  car- -though  candor  compels  me  to  admit  that  I 
later  discovered  it  to  be  a  used  car  rehabiKtated.  and  not 
a  product  fresh  from  the  factory,  as  I  had  anticipated. 
But  LatreiUe  was  proud  of  that  car,  and  proud  of  his 
position,  and  I  was  proud  of  having  a  French  chauf- 
fcur,  though  my  ardor  was  dampened  a  littie  later 
on.  when  I  discovered  that  LatreiUe,  instead  of  haUing 


RUNNING  OUT  OF  PAY-DIRT 


from  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  and  the  Avenue  de  la  Paix, 
originated  in  the  slightly  less  splendid  suburbs  of  Three 
Rivers,  up  on  the  St.  Lawrence. 

But  my  interest  in  Latreille  about  this  time  became 
quite  subsidiary,  for  something  much  more  important 
than  cars  happened  to  me.  I  fell  in  love.  I  fell  in 
love  with  Mary  Lockwood,  hcad-over-hecls  in  love 
wiA  a  girl  who  could  have  thrown  a  town  car  into 
the  Hudson  every  other  wedc  and  never  have  missed 
it  She  was  beautiful;  she  was  wonderful;  but  she 
was  dishearteningly  wealthy.  With  all  those  odious 
ridies  of  hers,  however,  she  was  a  terribly  honest  and 
above-board  girl,  a  healthy-bodied,  dear-eyed,  prac- 
tical-minded, normal-living  New  York  girl  who  in 
her  twenty-two  active  years  of  existence  had  seen 
enough  of  the  world  to  kiK>w  what  was  veneer  and 
what  was  solid,  and  had  seen  enough  of  men  to  de- 
mand mental  camaraderie  and  not  ^'squaw-talk"  from 
tiiem. 

I  first  saw  her  at  the  Volpi  sale,  in  the  American 
Art  Galleries,  where  we  chanced  to  bid  against  each 
other  for  an  old  Italian  table-cover,  a  sixteenth-century 
blue  velvet  embroidered  with  gold  galloon.  Mary  bid 
me  down,  of  course.  I  lost  my  table-cover,  and  with 
it  I  lost  my  heart  When  I  met  her  at  the  Obden- 
Belponts,  a  week  later,  she  confessed  that  I'd  rather 
been  wi  her  conscience.  She  generously  offered  to 
hand  over  that  oblong  of  old  velvet  if  I  still  happened 
to  be  grieving  over  its  loss.  But  I  told  her  that  all  I 
asked  for  was  a  chance  to  see  it  occasionally.  And 
.occasionally  I  went  to  see  it   I  also  saw  its  owner,  who 


i    * 


JO     THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

became  more  wonderful  to  me,  week  by  week.  Then 
I  lost  my  head  over  her.  That  aplieresis  was  so  com- 
plete that  I  told  Mary  what  had  happened,  and  asked 
her  to  marry  me. 

Mary  was  very  practical  about  it  all.  She  said  she 
hked  me,  liked  me  a  lot.  But  there  were  other  things 
to  be  considered.  We  would  have  to  wait.  I  had 
my  work  to  do— and  she  wanted  it  to  be  big  work, 
gloriously  big  work.  She  wouldn't  even  consent  to  a 
formal  engagement  But  we  had  an  "understanding." 
I  was  sent  back  to  my  v/ork,  drunk  with  the  memory 
of  her  surrendering  lips  warm  on  mine,  of  her  wist- 
fully entreating  eyes  searching  my  face  for  something 
which  she  seemed  unable  to  find  there. 

That  work  of  mine  which  I  went  back  to,  however, 
seemed  something  very  flat  and  meager  and  trivial 
And  this,  I  reaUzed,  was  a  condition  which  would 
never  do.    The  pot  had  to  be  kept  boiling,  and  boiHng 
now  more  briskly  than  ever.    I  had  lapsed  into  more 
or  less  luxurious  ways  of  living;  I  had  formed  ex- 
pensive tastes,  and  had  developed  a  fondness   for 
antiques  and  Chinese  bronzes  and  those  objets  d'art 
which  are  never  found  on  the  bargain-counter.     I 
had  outgrown  the  Spartan  ways  of  my  youth  when 
I  could  lunch  contentedly  at  Child's  and  sleep  soundly 
on  a  studio^ouch  in  a  top-floor  room.    And  more  and 
more  that  rapacious  ogre  known  as  Social  Obligation 
had  forged  his  links  and  fetters  about  my  movements. 
More  than  ever,  I  saw,  I  had  my  end  to  keep  up. 
What  should  have  been  a  recreation  had  become  al- 
most a  treadmill    I  was  a  pretender,  and  had  my  pre- 


RUNNING  OUT  OF  PAY-DIRT 


II 


tense  to  sustain.  I  couldn't  afford  to  be  "dropped."  I 
had  my  frontiers  to  protect,  and  my  powers  to  placate. 
I  couldn't  ask  Mary  to  throw  herself  away  on  a  no- 
body. So  instead  of  trying  to  keep  up  one  end,  I 
tried  to  keep  up  two.  I  continued  to  bob  about  the 
fringes  of  the  Four  Hundred.  And  I  continued  to 
cling  hungrily  to  Mary's  hint  about  doing  work,  glori- 
ously big  work. 

But  gloriously  Wg  work,  I  discovered,  was  usually 
done  by  Icmely  men,  living  simply  and  quietly,  and 
dvvelling  aloof  from  the  frivolous  side-issues  of  life, 
divorced  from  the  distractions  of  a  city  which  seemed 
organized  for  only  the  idler  and  the  lotos-eater.  And 
I  could  see  that  the  pay-dirt  c<Mning  out  of  Alaska 
was  running  thinner  and  thinner. 

It  was  to  remedy  this,  I  suppose,  that  I  dined  with 
my  old  friend  Pip  Conners,  just  back  to  civilization 
after  fourteen  long  years  up  in  the  Yukon.  That 
dinner  of  ours  together  was  memorable.  It  was  one 
of  the  mile-stones  of  my  life.  I  wanted  *:o  furbish  up 
my  information  on  that  remote  comer  of  the  world, 
which,  in  a  way,  I  had  preempted  as  my  own.  I 
wanted  fresh  information,  first-hand  data,  renewed  in- 
spiration. And  I  was  glad  to  fed  Pip's  homy  hand 
close  fraternally  about  mine. 

"Witter,"  he  said,  staring  at  me  with  open  admi- 
ration, "you're  a  wonder." 

I  liked  Pip's  praise,  even  though  I  stood  a  little  at 
a  loss  to  discem  its  inspiration. 

"You  mean— this?"  I  asked,  with  a  casual  hand- 
wave  about  that  Gramerqr  Square  abode  of  mine. 


12 


THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 


Ml 


"No,  sir,"  was  Pip's  prompt  retort.  "I  mean  those 
stones  of  yours.    I've  read  'em  aE" 

I  blushed  at  this,  blushed  openly.  For  such  com- 
m«dation  from  a  man  who  knew  life  as  it  was.  who 
knew  life  m  the  raw.  was  as  honey  to  my  cars. 

tfi^rer  I  asked,  more  for  something  to  dissemble  my 
«nbarrassm«it  than  to  acquire  actual  information. 

Yes,     acknowledged  Pip  with  a  rather  foolish- 
^undmg  laugh   "they  come  through  the  mails  about 

he^.T.'?  .r^^'^  '^  *~"S*>  *«  "^^  down 
tZ\,  ^^1*  ^^"  '^  A«n.  now  and  then,  when 
tne  gun-smoke  blows  out  of  the  valley  r* 

"Then  what  struck  you  as  wonderful  about  themr 
I  inqmred.  a  httle  at  sea  as  to  his  line  of  thought 

It  snot /Am  that's  wonderful,  Witter.    It^s  you. 
I  said  you  were  a  wonder.    And  you  are" 

And  why  am  I  a  wonder?"  I  asked,  with  the  drip 
of  the  honey  no  longer  embarrassing  my  modesty. 

Witter,  you  re  a  wonder  to  get  away  with  Ur  was 
Pips  solemn^  intoned  reply. 

;To  get  away  with  it  ?"  I  repeated 
1^;^'  '^  "^aJ^e  it  go  down !   To  get  'em  trussed  and 
gagged  and  hog-tied  I    To  make 'em  come  and  eat  out 
of  your  hand  and  then  holler  for  more!    For  I've 
been  up  there  in  the  British  Yukon  for  fourteen  nile 
comfortable  years,  Witter,  and  I've  kind  o'^k^w 
Ae  country.     I  know  how  folks  live  up'S,^,:^d 
what  the  laws  are.    And  it  may  strike  you  as  que^ 
mr^"?rr;^i  folks  up  in  that  distri^re  u2^ 
monly  hke  folks  down  here  in  the  States.    And  mZ 


t .. 


RUNNING  OUT  OF  PAY-DIRT 


13 


Klondike  and  this  same  British  Yukon  there  is  a  Fire- 
arms Act  which  makes  it  against  the  law  for  any 
civilian  to  tote  a  gun.  And  that  law  is  sure  carried 
out.  Fact  is,  there's  no  need  for  a  gun.  And  even 
if  you  did  smuggle  one  in,  the  Mounted  Police  would 
darned  soon  take  it  away  from  you  T 
I  sat  staring  at  him. 

"But  all  those  motion-pictures/'  I  gasped.    "And 
all  those  noveb  about — ** 

"That's  why  I  say  you're  a  wonder,"  broke  in  the 
genial-eyed  Pip.  "You  can  fool  aU  the  people  all  the 
time!  You've  done  it  And  you  keep  on  doing  it 
You  can  put  'em  to  sleep  and  take  it  out  of  their  pants 
pocket  before  they  know  they've  gone  by-by.  Why, 
you've  even  got  'em  tranced  off  in  the  matter  of  every- 
day school-geography.  You've  had  some  of  those  hero- 
guys  o*  yours  mush  seven  or  eight  hundred  miles,  and 
on  a  birch-bark  toboggan,  between  dinner  and  supper. 
And  if  that  ain't  genius,  I  ain't  ever  teen  it  bound  up  in 
a  reading-book  r 

That  dinner  was  a  mile-stone  in  my  life,  all  right, 
but  not  after  the  manner  I  had  ejq)ected.  For  as 
I  sat  there  in  a  cold  sweat  of  apprehension  crowned 
with  shame,  Pip  Conners  told  me  many  things  about 
Alaska  and  the  Klondike.  He  tdd  me  many  things 
that  were  new  to  me,  disheartcningly,  discouragmgly,  , 
deyitaliringly  new  to  me.  WiAout  knowing  it,  he 
pdgnarded  me,  knifed  me  through  and  tfirou^  WiA- 
out  dreaming  what  he  was  doing,  he  eviscerated  me. 
He  left  me  a  hdkm  and  empty  mask  of  as  88th<»-. 
He  left  me  a  homeless  exik,  with  the  iron  gates  of 


14    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

Fact  swung  sternly  shut  on  what  had  been  a  Fairy 
Land  of  Romance,  a  Promised  Land  of  untrammeUed 
and  car^-free  imaginings. 
That  was  my  first  sleepless  night 

T  I  M  1"°*^*^  *°  ^^P-    ^  ^^  "°*^»"«  to  any  one. 
I  held  that  vulture  of  shame  close  in  my  arms  and 
felt  Its  unclean  beak  awling  into  my  vitals.    I  tried 
to  go  bade  to  my  work,  next  day.  to  lose  myself  in 
creation.     But  it  was  like  seeking  consolation  be- 
side a  corpse.     For  me.  Alaska  was  killed.  kiUed 
forever.     And  blight  had  fallen  on  more  than  my 
work     It  had  crept  over  my  very  world,  the  world 
which  only  the  labor  of  my  pen  could  keep  orderly  and 
orgamzed.    The  city  in  which  I  had  seemed  to  sit  a 
conqueror  suddenly  lay  about  me  a  flat  and  monoto- 
nous  tableland  of  ennui,  as  empty  and  stale  as  a  drcus- 
tot  after  the  last  canvas-wagon  has  rumbled  away. 

I  have  no  intention  of  making  this  recountal  the 
confessions  of  a  neurasthenic  Nothing  is  further  from 
my  aims  than  the  inditing  of  a  second  Qty  of  Dread- 
ful Night.    But  I  began  to  worry.    And  later  on  I  be- 

^  to  magnify  my  troubles.  I  even  stuck  to  New  York 
tim  summer,  for  the  simple  reason  that  I  couldn't 
attord  to  go  away.  And  it  was  an  unspeakably  hot 
summer.  I  did  my  best  to  work,  sitting  for  hours  at 
a  tme  stanng  at  a  Wank  sheet  of  paper,  set  out  like 
tang^e^oot  to  catch  a  passing  idea.  But  not  an  idea 
ahghted  on  that  square  of  spotless  white.  When 
1  tned  new  fields,  knowing  Alaska  was  dead,  the 
editor  solemnly  shook  their  heads  and  announced 
that  this  new  offering  of  mine  didn't  seem  to  have  the 


RUNNING  OUT  OF  PAY-DIRT 


IS 


snap  and  go  of  my  older  manner.  Then  panic  overtook 
me,  and  after  yet  another  white  night  I  went  straight 
to  Sanson,  the  nerve  specialist,  and  told  him  I  was 
going  cnuy. 

He  laughed  at  me.  Then  he  offhandedly  tapped  me 
over  and  tried  my  reflexes  and  took  my  blood  pressure 
and  even  more  diffidently  asked  me  a  question  or  two. 
He  ended  up  by  announcing  that  I  was  as  sound  as  a 
dollar,  whatever  that  may  have  meant,  and  suggested 
as  an  afterthought  that  I  drop  tobacco  and  go  m  more 
for  golf. 

That  buoyed  me  up  for  a  week  or  two.  But  Mary, 
when  she  came  in  to  town  radiant  and  cool  for 
three  days'  shopping,  seemed  to  detect  in  me  a  change 
which  first  surprised  and  then  troubled  her.  I  was 
bitterly  conscious  of  being  a  disappointment  to  some- 
body who  expected  great  things  of  me.  And  to  escape 
that  double-ttiged  sword  of  mortification,  I  once  again 
tried  to  bury  myself  in  my  work.  But  I  just  as  well 
might  have  tried  to  bury  myself  in  a  butter-dish,  for 
there  was  no  effort  and  no  activity  there  to  envelope 
me.  I  was  coerced  into  idleness,  without  ever  having 
acquired  the  art  of  doing  nothing.  For  life  with  me 
had  been  a  good  deal  like  boiling  rice:  it  had  to  be 
kept  galloping  to  save  it  from  gomg  mushy.  Yet 
now  the  fire  itself  seemed  out  And  that  prompted  me 
to  sit  and  listen  to  my  works,  as  iht  French  tdkra 
expresses  it,  wluch  is  never  a  profitable  oiHing  fw 
a  naturally  na*vous  man. 

The  lee  and  ^  long  of  it  was,  as  «ic  h\A  say,  that 
I  went  back  to  Doctor  Ssumq  and  demanded 


i6    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


thing,  in  the  nanM  of  God,  that  would  give  nw  a  good 
night's  sleqK  He  was  less  jocular,  this  time.  He  told 
toe  to  forget  my  troubles  and  go  fishing  for  a  couple 
of  wedcs. 

I  did  go  fishing,  but  I  fished  for  ideas.  And  I  got 
scarcely  a  strike.  Tq  leave  the  city  was  now  more 
than  ever  out  of  the  question.  So  for  recreation  I 
had  Latreille  take  me  out  in  the  car,  when  a  feverish 
thirst  for  speed,  which  I  found  it  hard  to  account 
for,  drove  me  into  daily  violaticms  of  the  traffic  laws. 
Twice,  in  fact,  I  was  fined  for  this,  with  a  curtly 
warning  talk  from  the  presiding  magistrate  on  the 
second  occasion,  since  the  offense,  in  this  cas^  was 
comi^icated  by  collision  with  an  empty  bal^-carriage. 
LatreiUe,  about  this  time,  seemed  uncannily  conscious 
of  my  condition.  More  and  more  he  seemed  to  rai^ 
me  on  the  raw,  until  irritati<m  deepened  into  positive 
dislike  for  the  man. 

When  Mary  came  back  to  the  city  for  a  few  days, 
before  going  to  the  Virginia  hills  for  the  autumn,  I 
lodced  so  wretdied  and  fdt  so  wretched  that  I  de- 
cided not  to  see  her.  I  was  taking  veronal  now,  to 
make  me  sleep,  and  with  cooler  weather  I  looked  for 
better  rest  and  a  return  to  work.  But  my  hopes  were 
ill-founded.  I  came  to  dread  the  night,  and  the  night's 
ever-recurring  battle  for  sleep.  I  lost  my  per^>ective 
on  thmgs.  And  then  came  tiie  crowning  catastrt^^ 
the  catastrophe  which  turned  me  into  a  sort  of  twen- 
tieth-century Macbeth. 

The  details  of  that  catastrophe  were  ludicrous 
enough,  and  it  had  no  definite  and  dear-cut  outcome. 


RUNNING  OUT  OF  PAY-DIRT 


«r 


but  its  effect  on  my  ovcr-tenuoncd  nerves  was  salB> 
ctently  calamitoos.  It  occurred,  oddly  enough,  on  Hai- 
low-e'en  night,  when  the  world  is  supposed  to  be  given 
over  to  festivity.  Latreille  had  motored  roe  out  to  a 
small  dinner-dance  at  Washburn's,  on  Long  Island, 
but  I  had  left  early  in  the  evening,  perversely  de- 
pressed by  a  hilarity  in  which  I  had  not  the  heart  to 
join.  Twice,  on  the  way  back  to  the  city,  I  had  called 
out  to  Latreille  for  more  speed.  We  had  just  taken  a 
turn  in  the  outskirts  of  Brooklyn  when  my  swmging 
headlights  disclosed  the  figure  of  a  man,  an  umtable 
and  wavering  man,  obviously  drunk,  totter  and  fall 
directly  in  iroat  of  my  car. 

I  heard  the  squeal  of  the  brakes  and  the  high-pitched 
shouts  from  a  crowd  of  youths  akmg  the  sidewalk. 
But  it  was  too  late.  I  could  fed  the  impact  as  we 
struck.  I  could  feel  the  sickening  thud  and  jolt  as 
the  wheels  pounded  over  that  fallen  body. 

I  stood  up,  without  quite  knowing  what  I  was  doing, 
and  screan^ed  like  a  woman.  Then  I  dropped  weakly 
back  in  my  seat  I  think  I  was  sobbing.  I  scarcely 
noticed  that  Latreille  had  failed  to  stop  the  car.  He 
spoke  to  me  twice,  in  fact,  before  I  knew  it. 

"Shall  we  go  on,  sir?"  he  asked,  glancing  back  at 
me  over  his  shoulder. 

*'Go  on!**  I  shouted,  knowing  well  enough  by  this 
time  what  I  said,  surrendering  merely  to  that  blind 
and  cowardly  panic  for  self-preservation  which  marks 
man  at  his  lowest 

We  thumped  and  swerved  and  speeded  away  on  the 
wings  of  cowardice.   I  sat  there  gasping  and  dutd.  ng 


iB    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


ny  moist  fingers  together,  as  Fve  seen  hysterical 
women  do,  calling  on  Latreille  for  speed,  and  still 
more^peed. 

I  don't  know  where  he  took  me.  But  I  became  con- 
scious of  the  consoling  blackness  of  the  night  about 
us.  And  I  thanked  God,  as  Cain  must  have  done 
when  he  found  himself  alone  with  his  shame. 

"Latreille."  I  said,  breathing  brokenly  as  we  slowed 
ui^  "did  we— </«  we  kiU  himr 

My  chauffeur  turned  in  his  seat  and  studied  my 
face.  Then  he  looked  carefully  back,  to  make  sure 
we  were  not  being  foUowed. 

"This  is  a  heavy  car,  sir,"  he  finally  admitted.  He 
said  it  coolly,  and  almost  impersonally.  But  the  words 
fell  like  a  sledge-hammer  on  my  heart 

"But  we  couldn't  have  killed  a  man,"  I  clamored 
insanely,  weakly,  as  we  came  to  a  dead  stop  at  the 
roadside. 

"Forty-two  hundred  pounds—and  he  got  both 
wheels!"  caknly  protested  my  enemy,  for  I  felt  now 
that  he  was  in  some  way  my  enemy. 

"What  in  heaven's  name  are  you  going  to  do?"  I 
gasped,  for  I  noticed  that  he  was  getting  down  from 
his  seat. 

"Hadn't  I  better  get  the  Wood  off  the  running-gear, 
before  we  turn  back  into  town?" 

"Blood?"  I  quavered  as  I  clutched  at  the  robe^rail 
in  front  of  me.  And  that  one  word  brought  the  hor- 
ror of  the  thing  home  to  me  in  all  its  ghastiiness.  I 
couM  see  axles  and  running-board  and  Iw^ke-bar  dri|>- 
ping  with  red,  festooned  with  shreds  of  flesh,  maculated 


RUNNING  OUT  OP  PAY-DIRT  19 

with  blickcp'  nofc  And  I  oovml  ny  ikoe  with 
my  hands*  and  grnned  tkwd  in  my  ndmy  ot  'kmL 
ButUtrdlledidnotwiitfornie.  He  Hftcd  tiie  tcit- 
cuihion.  took  rubbinfl^dodu  from  the  tool-boar  and 
crawled  out  of  light  beneath  the  car.  loouUMthe 
oc«8ional  tranon  that  went  through  the  f  rame-worlc 
as  he  burfed  himself  at  that  gridy  talk.  I  coiOd  hear 
his  grunt  of  satisfaction  when  he  had  finished.    And 

I  watched  him  with  stricken  Q^  as  he  stqjped  through 
the  vague  darkness  and  tossed  his  telltale  ck)ths  far 
over  the  roadskle  fence; 

"If  s  all  right/'  he  companionably  announced  as  he 
stepped  back  into  the  car.  But  there  was  a  new  note 
in  the  man's  demeanor,  a  note  which  even  throngfa 

that  Wack  fog  of  terror  reached  me  and  awakened  my 
waentment  We  were  Friners  in  crime;  We  were 
fcUow-actors  in  a  drama  of  indescribable  cowardice, 
and!  was  in  the  man's  power,  to  the  end  of  &nfc 

The  outcome  of  that  catastrophe,  as  I  have  already 
said,  was  indefinite,  torturingly  indefinite.  I  was 
too  shaken  and  sick  to  ferret  out  its  consequences. 
I  left  that  to  LatrdUc,  who  seemed  to  understand 
well  enough  what  I  expected  of  him. 

That  first  night  wore  by,  and  nothmg  came  of  it 
all.  The  mommg  dragged  away,  and  my  fellow- 
cnmmal  seemingly  encountered  nothmg  worthy  of 
rehetrsal  to  me.  Then  stiU  another  night  came  and 
w«t  I  went  through  the  published  hospital  reports. 
«id  the  p^  records,  with  my  heart  in  my  mouth. 

But  I  could  unearth  no  official  account  of  &e  tragedy 
I  even  encountered  my  good  friend  PUrofanan  Mo^ 


JO    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

Cboey,  apptraitly  by  tccident,  and  held  him  up  on  hit 
beat  about  Gramercy  Pkrk  to  make  casual  inquirict 
at  to  strcet-accidenti,  and  if  fuch  things  were  increas- 
ing of  late.  But  nothing  of  moment,  apparently,  had 
come  to  McCooey's  ears.  And  I  stood  watching  him 
as  he  flatfooted  his  way  pbddly  on  from  my  house- 
front,  with  one  of  my  best  cigars  tucked  under  his 
tunic,  wondering  what  the  world  would  say  if  it  knew 
that  Witter  Kerfoot,  the  intrepid  creator  of  sinewy 
supermen  who  snar!  and  fight  and  shake  iron  fists  in 
the  teeth  of  Extremity,  had  run  like  a  rabbit  from  a 
human  being  he  had  bowled  over  and  killed? 

I  still  hoped  against  hope,  however,  trying  to  tell 
myself  that  it  is  no  easy  thing  to  knock  the  life  out  of 
a  man,  passionately  upbraiding  myself  for  not  doing 
what  I  should  have  done  to  succor  the  injured,  then 
sinkingly  remembering  what  Latreille  had  mentioned 
about  the  weight  of  my  car.  Yet  it  wasn't  until  the 
next  night,  as  I  ventured  out  to  step  into  that  odiously 
ponderous  engine  of  destruction,  that  uncertainty  solidi- 
fied into  fact 

"You got  him*'  announced  my  chauffeur  out  of  one 
side  of  his  mouth,  so  that  Benson,  who  stood  on  the 
house-steps,  might  not  overhear  those  fateful  words. 

"Got  him?"  I  echoed,  vaguely  rescpting  the  man's 
use  of  that  personal  pronoun  singular. 

"Killed  r'  was  Latreillc's  monosyllabic  explanation. 
And  my  heart  stopped  beating. 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  I  demanded  in  whisper 
ing  horror.  For  I  understood  enough  of  the  law  of 
the  land  to  know  that  a  speeder  who  flees  from  the 


RUNNING  OUT  OF  PAY-DIRT  n 

▼fedn  of  hb  cardenncff  it  twhaictlly  guilty  of  maa. 
•lauflittr. 

"A  naa  I  know,  numd  Cretty,  hdped  any  tlit 
bo^jr  bide  to  liit  Jioute.  Crotty't  Jytt  told  me  about 
ft.** 

Uy  fact  mutt  have  frightened  Latreille»  for  he 
covered  his  movement  of  catching  hold  of  my  ann  ty 
<w«nooiott«ly  opening  the  car  door  tor  me. 

"Sit  tight,  mani"  he  ordered  hi  his  curt  and  con- 
spiratorial  undertone.  "Sit  tight— for  it's  aU  that* s 
left  to  dor 

I  sat  tight    It  was  an  there  was  to  do.    I  endured 
LatreiUe's  accession  of  self-importance  without  com- 
"nent    There  promptly  grew  up  between  us  a  tadt 
understanding  of  silence.    Yet  I  had  reason  to  fed 
that  this  silence  wasn't  aWrays  as  profound  as  it 
seemed.    For  at  the  end  of  my  third  day  of  self- 
torturing  solitude  I  went  to  my  dub  to  dine.    I  went 
with  set  teeth.    I  went  in  the  hope  of  ridding  my  sys- 
tem  of  self.fear,  very  much  as  an  alcoholic  goes  to  a 
Turkish-bath.    I  went  to  mix  once  more  with  my  fel- 
lows, to  prove  that  I  stood  on  common  ground  with 
them 

But  the  mixing  was  not  a  success.  I  stepped  across 
that  famUiar  portal  in  quavering  dread  of  hostility. 
And  I  found  what  I  was  looking  for.  I  detected  mysdf , 
bcmg  eyed  coldly  by  men  who  had  once  posed  as  my 
fnends.  I  dined  alone,  oppressed  by  the  discovery 
that  I  was  bdng  deliberately  avoided  fay  the  fdlow- 
mcmbers  of  what  shouM  have  been  an  organized  com- 
panionabiHty.    Then  I  todc  a  grip  on  mysdf,  and  for- 


«    THE  MAN  WHO  COtnjDNT  SLEEP 

lomly  argued  that  it  was  aU  mere  imaginatioii,  ( 
vaponngs  of  a  morbid  and  chlorotic  mind.  tS  I 
next  moment  a  counter-shock  confronted  me.  For 
I  stared  desolatery  out  of  that  dub  window  I  can. 
Sight  of  UWUe  himself.  He  stood  there  at  the  cJ 
taUting  confident^  to  three  other  chauflTeur,  cluster 
about  h.m  between  their  cats.    Nothing,  I  sudden 

a  word  dropprf  m  one  servant's  ear  would  soon  Ls . 
toanofter.  And  that  other  would  cany  the  S 
sull  wider,  unta  it  spread  like  an  inf  ectiZ  f  rom  S 

^\  ^^''^  '^  '«"  P"™««  '»">«  to  tl 
veor  housetops.  And  already  I  was  a  marked  ma., 
panah,  an  outcast  with  no  friendly  wUdemess  t 
swallow  me  upi  "uuemess  t 

I  slunk  home  that  ni^t  with  a  plumb^ob  of  lea 
«™gu«  undjr  my  rib,  whe„  my  hear,  should  W 
bcCT.  I  tiled  to  sleep  and  could  not  slem.  So 
to*  a  double  dose  of  dUoral  hydrWe,  a^waTre 
warded  ^&  a  few  boor,  of  nighCTwS^^ 
a  twenUedKentmy  Attila  driving  a  radng^ar  Z 
an  «jdle,s  avenue  of  demided  infant,.  Twa,  .H 
homWe  that  it  left  me  Kmp  «rf  q„ailing  mJ^Z 

>»Wy  at  flie  thought  of  Mary  Lockwood  uul  A. 
a-Wtinted  hills  of  T,r^  T^  ^^^ 

getting  away  from  that  city  of  kMt  deeo     I^A. 
-^  of  «ex«rio„«„g..  what  JTc^  ^  t 

tnost  soul     I  wajt  amirmA  «-•*!.  j  «  '~««HS  "*/  m- 

ui.    i  was  seizea  witti  a  sudden  and  fthriu 
ache  for  c^^onshi^    So  I  .«*  .  f.^^^^^^ 


RUNNING  OUT  OF  PAY-DIRT 


23 


latton,  the 
Yet  the 
t.    For  as 
r  I  caught 
t  the  curb, 
clustered 
suddenfy 
ing.  And 
>n  pass  on 
s  whisper 
>m  below- 
les  to  the 
d  man,  a 
auess  to 

>  of  lead 
uld  have 
^  So  I 
was  re- 
in I  was 
ar  over 
IS  all  so 
Fore' the 
ion  that 
i  fever- 
md  the 
leed  of 
fdttfae 
my  in- 
fdmle 
nd  wire 


to  the  only  woman  in  the  world  I  could  look  to  in  my 
extremity.    And  the  next  morning  brought  me  a  reply. 

It  merely  said,  "Don't  come." 

The  bottom  seenieJ  to  fall  out  of  the  world,  with 
that  curt  message,  and  I  grope  1  forlornly,  frantically, 
for  something  stable  10  sustain  me.  But  there  was 
nothing.  Bad  news,  I  bitterly  reminded  myself,  had 
the  habit  of  traveling  fast  Mary  knew.  The  endless 
chain  had  widened,  like  a  wirdess-wave.  It  had  rolled 
on,  like  war-gas,  until  it  had  blighted  even  the  slopes 
beyond  the  Potomac.    For  Mary  knew! 

It  was  two  days  later  that  a  note,  in  her  picket-fence 
script  that  was  as  sharp-pointed  as  arrow-heads,  fol- 
lowed after  the  telegram. 

"There  are  certain  things,"  wrote  Mary,  "which 
I  can  scarcely  talk  about  on  paper.    At  least,  not  as  I 
should  prefer  talking  about  them.    But  these  things 
must  necessarily  make  a  change  in  your  life,  and  in 
mine.   I  don't  want  to  seem  harsh.  Witter,  but  we  can't 
go  on  as  we  have  been  doing.    We'U  both  have  to  get 
used  to  the  idea  of  trudging  along  in  single  harness. 
And  I  think  you  will  understand  why.    I'm  not  ex- 
acting explanations,  remember.  I'm  merely  requesting 
an  armistice.    If  you  intend  to  let  me,  I  still  waat  to 
be  your  friend,  and  I  trust  no  perceptible  gulf  wiU 
yam  between  us,  when  we  chance  to  dine  at  the 
same  table  or  step  through  the  same  coHOum.    But  I 
must  bow  to  those  newer  cincumstances  which  seem 
to  have  confronted  you  even  before  they  presented 
themselves  to  me.     So  when  I  say  good-by,  it  is  more 
to  the  Past  I  think,  than  to  You." 

That  was  the  first  night,  I  remember,  when  sleq>- 


24    THE  MAN  WHO  COUI^DNT  SLEEP 

ing-powders  proved  of  no  earthly  use  to  me.  And 
this  would  not  be  an  honest  record  of  events  if  I 
neglected  to  state  that  the  next  day  I  shut  myself  up 
m  my  study  and  drank  much  more  Pommery-Greno 
than  was  good  for  me.  I  got  drunk,  in  fact,  blindly, 
stupidly,  senselessly  drunk.  But  it  seemed  to  drape  a 
veil  between  me  and  the  past  It  made  a  bonfire  of  my 
body  to  bum  up  the  debris  of  my  mind.  And  when 
poor  old  patient-eyed  Benson  mixed  me  a  bromide  and 
put  me  to  bed  I  felt  Uke  a  patient  coming  out  of 
ether  after  a  major  operation.  I  was  tired,  and  I 
wanted  to  lie  there  and  rest  for  a  kmg  time; 


CHAPTER  II 


THE  OX-BLOOD  VASB 

r*  was  a  wedc  later,  and  well  after  two,  in  the 
dullest  ebb  of  earth's  deadest  hour,  when  Benson 
lifted  the  portiere  and  stepped  into  my  room. 

I  put  down  the  bode  at  which  my  bnan  had  been 
scratching  like  a  dog  scratehing  at  a  closed  door.  It 
was  a  volume  of  Gautier's  nouvelles.  I  had  just 
reached  that  mildly  assuaging  point  in  Une  Nuit  de 
CUop&tre  where  the  mysterious  arrow,  whistling 
through  the  palace  window  of  a  queen  bored  ahnost  to 
extinction,  buries  itself  quivering  in  the  cedar  wainscot- 
ing above  her  couch. 

But  the  incident,  this  time,  seemed  to  have  lost  its 
ajqieal.  The  whole  thing  sounded  very  empty  and 
old,  very  foolish  and  far-away.  The  thrill  of  drama, 
I  cogitated,  is  apt  to  leak  out  of  a  situation  when  it 
conies  to  one  over  a  circuit  of  two  Aousand  niol^r* 
ing  years.  So  I  looked  up  at  my  servant  a  little  listless- 
ly and  yet  a  little  puzzled  t^  what  was  ^binly  a 
studied  calmness  of  appearance. 

"Benson,  why  arm't  you  in  bed  ?^ 

"If  you  win  pardon  me,  sir,"  began  the  mtnider, 
"IVe  a  gentleman  here." 

He  was  so  extraordinarily  cool  about  it  that  I  rose 
like  a  fish  at  the  flash  of  something  uiuimiaL 

"At  this  time  of  night?"  I  inquiftd. 

as 


26    THE  MAN  WHO  COUI-DN'T  SLEEP 

"Yes,  sir." 

"But  what  kind  of  gentleman,  Benson?" 

Benson  hesitated;  it  was  the  sort  of  hesitation  that 
is  able  to  translate  silence  into  an  apology. 

"I  think,  sir,  it's  a  burglar." 

"A  what?"  I  demanded,  incredulous^. 

"The  fact  is,  sir,  I  'a{q>ened  to  hear  him  at  the  lock. 
When  he  forced  the  door,  sir,  not  being*  aUe  to  work 
the  lock,  I  was  waiting  for  him." 

The  dropped  aspirate  was  an  unfailing  sign  of  mental 
disturbance  in  Bensoa  I  closed  my  book  and  tossed  it 
aside.  It  was  <mly  drama  of  the  second  dimension,  as 
old  and  musty  as  a  mummy.  And  here,  apparently,  was 
adventure  of  the  first  water,  something  of  my  own 
world  and  time. 

"This  sounds  rather  interesting,  Benson.  Be  so 
good  as  to  show  the  gentleman  up." 

I  sat  down,  with  a  second  look  at  the  dragging 
Icands  of  the  little  French  dock  on  my  mantd.  But 
Benson  still  seemed  a  trifle  ill  at  ease. 

"I — I  took  the  liberty  of  tying  him  up  a  bit,  sir," 
explained  that  astute  old  dissembler,  "being  compelled, 
as  it  were,  to  use  a  bit  of  force." 

"Of  course.  Then  untie  him  as  much  as  necessary, 
and  fetch  him  here.  And  you  might  tx-ing  up  a  bottle 
of  Lafitte  and  a  bite  to  eat    For  two,  if  you  please." 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  answered.    But  still  he  hesitated. 

"The  revolver,  sir,  is  in  the  cabinet-drawer  on  your 
left." 

There  were  times  ivlten  old  Bensem  could  almost 
make  me  laugh;  times  when  the  transparendes  of  his 


THE  OX-BLOOD  VASE 


27 


obliquities  converted  them  into  something  ahnost  re- 
spefAsAAc 

"We  won't  need  the  revolver,  Benson.  What  I 
most  need  I  fancy  is  amusement,  distraction,  excite- 
ment, anything — ^anything  to  get  me  through  this  end- 
less hell  of  a  night** 

I  could  feel  my  voice  rise  cm  the  closing  words, 
like  the  uprear  of  a  terrified  racdiorse.  It  was  not 
a  good  sign.  I  got  up  and  paced  the  rug,  like  a  cast- 
away pacing  some  barren  and  empty  island.  But 
here,  I  told  myself,  was  a  timely  footprint  I  waited, 
as  breathless  as  a  Crusoe  awaiting  his  Friday. 

I  waited  so  long  that  I  was  begging  to  dread  some 
mishap.  Then  tiie  portiere  parted  for  the  seccmd  time, 
and  Benson  led  the  burglar  into  the  room. 

I  experienced,  as  I  looked  at  him,  a  distinct  sense 
of  disappcnntment  He  was  not  at  all  what  I  ec- 
pected.  He  wore  no  black  mask,  and  was  ndther 
burly  nor  ferocious.  The  thing  that  first  impressed  me 
was  his  sloidemess — an  almost  feline  sort  of  slender- 
ness.  The  fact  I  next  remariced  was  that  he  was  very 
badly  frightened,  so  frightened,  in  fact,  that  his  face 
was  the  tint  of  a  rather  soiled  white  glove.  It  could 
never  have  been  a  ruddy  face.  But  its  present  start- 
ling pallor,  I  assumed,  must  have  been  largely  due 
to  Benson's  treatment,  although  I  was  still  puzzled 
by  the  look  of  abject  terror  which  gave  the  captive's 
eyes  their  animal-like  glitter.  He  stood  before  me 
for  all  the  work!  as  though  a  hospital  interne  had  been 
practising  abstruse  bandaging  feats  on  his  body,  so 
neatly  and  yet  so  firmly  had  the  redoubtable  Benson 


38    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


;  it: 


hobUed  him  and  swathed  his  arms  in  a  half-dozen  of 
n^  best  Irish  linen  table-napkins.  Over  these,  again, 
had  been  wound  and  buckled  a  trunk-strs^.  Benson 
had  not  skimped  his  job.  His  burglar  was  wrapped  as 
securely  as  a  butcher  wraps  a  boned  rib-roast. 

My  hope  for  ai^  diverting  talk  along  the  more  {»c> 
turesque  avenues  of  life  was  depressingly  short-lived. 
The  man  remained  both  sullen  and  silent.  His  sulky 
speechlessness  was  plainly  that  of  a  low  order  of  mind 
menaced  by  vague  uncertainties  and  mystified  by  new 
surroundings.  Blood  still  dripped  slowly  down  the 
back  of  his  soiled  collar,  where  Benson's  neat  whelp 
had  abraded  the  scalp. 

Yet  his  eyes,  all  the  time,  were  alert  enough.  They 
seemed  to  take  on  a  wisdom  that  was  uncanny,  the 
inarticulate  wisdom  of  a  reptile,  bewildering  me,  for 
all  their  terror,  with  some  inner  sense  of  vicious  secur- 
ity. To  fire  questions  at  him  was  as  futile  as  throw- 
ing pebbles  at  an  alligator.  He  had  determmed, 
apparently,  not  to  open  his  lips;  though  his  glance, 
all  this  time,  was  never  an  idle  or  empty  one.  I  gave 
up,  with  a  touch  of  anger. 

"Frisk  him,"  I  told  the  waiting  Benson.  As  that 
underworld  phrase  was  new  to  thor  respectable 
Anglian  ears,  I  had  to  translate  it.  "See  *  he's  carry- 
ing a  gun.    Seardi  his  pockets — every  one  of  them.'* 

This  Benson  did,  with  an  affective  mingling  of 
muffled  caution  and  open  repugnance.  He  felt  from 
pocket  to  pocket,  as  gingerly  as  small  boys  feel  into 
ferret  holes,  and  with  one  eye  always  on  the  colorless 
and  sphinx-like  face  beside  him. 


THE  OX-BLOOP  VASE 


29 


The  resuh  of  that  search  was  quite  eiiC9iiragmg. 
From  one  pocket  came  an  ugly,  short-barreled  Colt 
From  another  came  two  skeleton  keys  and  a  few 
inches  of  copper  wire  bent  into  a  coil.  From  still 
another  came  a  small  electric  flashlight  Under  our 
burglar's  coat,  with  one  end  resting  m  his  left-hand 
waistcoat  pocket,  was  a  twenty-inch  steel  "jimmy." 
It  was  a  very  attractive  tod,  not  unlike  a  long  and 
extremely  slender  stove  lifter,  with  a  tip-tilted  end.  I 
found  it  suggestive  of  tremendous  leverage-power, 
tempting  one  to  test  its  strength.  It  proved  as  in- 
viting to  the  hand  as  a  golfer's  well-balanced  "driver." 

From  the  right-hand  waistcoat  pocket  Benson  pro- 
duced a  lady's  gold  watch,  two  finger  rings,  a  gold 
barrette,  and  a  foot  or  two  of  old-fashioned  k)cket 
chain,  of  solid  gold.  There  was  nothing  to  show  who 
the  owner  of  this  jewelry  might  be. 

"I  suppose  you  just  bought  this  at  Tlfeny'sr  I 
inquired.  But  the  needle  of  antiphrasis  had  no  effect 
on  his  indurated  hide.  His  passivity  waa  beginning 
to  get  on  ny  nerves.  He  might  have  been  a  wax 
figure  m  the  Eden  Mus^  were  it  not  for  those  reptil- 
iously  alert  and  ever  exaq>erating  eyes.  I  stood  up 
and  confronted  hinL 

'T  want  to  know  where  this  stuff  came  from." 

The  white-faced  burglar  still  looked  at  me  out  of 
those  sullen  and  rebeOioaa  blinkert  of  Us.  Bttt  not 
a  word  passed  his  lips. 

"Then  we'll  investigate  a  little  farther,"  I  said,  ey^ 
ing  his  somewhat  protuberant  breast-bone.  ''Go  on 
widi  the  search,  Benson,  and  get  everythbg."    For  it 


30    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

was  plain  that  oar  visitor,  before  honoring  tu  Aat 
night,  had  caUed  at  othw  homes. 

I  watched  Benson  with  increased  interest  as  his 
fastidiously  exploring  hand  went  down  inside  the 
buijrlars  opened  waistcoat  I  saw  him  feel  there^  and 
as  he  did  so  I  caught  a  change  of  expression  on  our 
pnsoner's  face.  He  looked  worried  and  harassed  bjr 
this  time;  he  seemed  to  have  lost  his  tranquil  and 
snake-like  assurance.  His  smaU,  lean  head  with  the 
I»theticaUy  eager  eyes  took  on  a  rat-like  look.  Iknew 
then  the  end  toward  which  my  mind  had  been  groping. 
The  man  was  not  snake-like.  He  was  rat-like.  He  was 
a  cornered  rat   Rat  seemed  written  all  over  him. 

But  at  that  moment  my  eyes  went  back  to  Benson, 
for  I  had  seen  his  hand  bringing  away  a  smaU  vase 
party  wrapped  in  a  pocket-handkerchief.  This 
handkerchief  was  extremely  dirty. 

I  took  the  vase  from  his  hand,  drawing  away  the 
rag  Aat  screened  it  Only  by  an  effort,  as  I  did  so, 
was  I  able  to  conceal  my  surprise.  For  one  glance 
at  Aat  slender  Kttle  column  of  sang^e-boeuf  rorcelain 
told  me  what  it  was.  There  was  no  possibility  of 
mistake  One  glimpse  of  it  was  enough.  It  was  from 
the  Gubtill  collectioa  For  once  before  my  fingers  had 
caressed  the  same  gla^e  and  the  same  tender  con- 
tours. Once  before,  and  under  vastly  different  cir- 
cumstances, I  had  weighed  that  delkate  tube  of  pwce- 
lam  m  my  contemi^ative  hands. 

I  sat  back  and  looked  at  it  more  carefully  I  ex- 
amined the  crackled  groundwork,  with  its  brilliant 
mottled  tones,  and  its  ijaleruby  shades  that  deepened 


THE  OX-BLOOD  VASE 


3« 


into  crimsoiL  I  peered  down  at  the  foot  of  enameled 
white  with  its  skmfy  deepening  tmge  of  pale  green. 
Then  I  looked  up  at  the  delicate  lip^  the  lip  that  had 
once  been  injured  and  artftilly  banded  with  a  ring  of 
gold.  It  was  a  vase  of  the  K'angshi  Period,  a  rare 
and  beautiful  specimen  among  the  Lang  Yao  mono- 
chromes. And  history  s»id  that  thirty  years  before 
it  had  been  purchased  from  the  sixth  Primre  of  Pddn» 
and  had  always  been  known  as  "The  Flame." 

Both  Anthony  Gubtill  and  I  had  bid  for  that  vase. 
Our  contest  for  it  had  been  a  i^irited  one,  and  had 
even  been  made  the  subject  of  a  paragraph  or  two  in 
the  morning  papers.  But  an  inexplicably  reddess 
mood  had  overtaken  that  parsimonious  old  collector, 
and  he  had  won,  though  the  day  after  the  Graves  sale 
I  had  been  a  member  of  that  decorously  appmnative 
diniwr  party  which  had  witnessed  its  installation  be- 
tween a  rather  valuable  peach-bloom  Bmfhon.  of 
haricot-red  groundwork,  with  rose  ^K>t8  accentuated 
by  the  usual  clouds  of  apfde-green,  and  a  taller  and, 
to  my  mind,  much  m<M«  valuaMe  aslwsH)f-roee8 
cylindrical  Lang  Yao  with  a  carved  ivory  base.  We 
had  locktd  on  tiie  occasion  as  scmiewhat  of  an  events 
for  such  tlungs  naturally  are  not  pkiced  up  evtfy 
day.  So  the  mere  sight  of  tiie  vase  todc  me  bade  to 
die  Gubtill  home,  to  tlttt  rkfa  and  tptuaoKM  hooie  on 
lower  Fifth  Avenue  what  I  had  spent  not  a  lew 
happy  evedngs.  And  tiiat  in  turn  took  my  tiwof^ 
bade  to  a  certain  Volpl  sale  and  an  old  Iti^an  tiiile- 
cover  of  blue  vdvet  From  dw  ttl^-cover  tiiey  findled 
oa  to  Maiy  Lodcwood  and  tiie  rementibered  kiv^flest 


1« 


3a    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

of  her  £ue  at  we  stood  aide  fay  tide  ttaring  down  at 
the  gold  galloon  along  the  borders  of  that  old  vett- 
ment  Then  I  drew  memory  up  thort,  with  a  wince, 
at  I  tttddenly  realized  that  the  wanderer  had  been 
poetrating  into  ttrictly  forbidden  paths. 

I  put  the  vase  down  on  my  table  and  turned  away 
ftwn  it.  not  caring  to  betray  my  interest  in  it,  nor 
to  give  to  the  rat-like  eyet  ttiU  watching  me  any  ink- 
ling of  my  true  feeUngs.  Yet  the  thought  of  such 
beauty  being  in  the  hands  of  a  brute  like  that  sickened 
««.  I  was  angered  by  the  very  idea  that  such  grace 
and  deficacy  shoukl  be  outraged  by  the  foul  rags  and 
the  even  fouler  touch  of  a  k»w-browed  sneakthief.  I 
resented  the  outrage^  just  at  any  normal  mind  would 
resent  a  jungle     -'s  abduction  of  a  delicate  child. 

I  turned  and  .ooked  the  criminal  up  and  down.  I 
noticed,  for  the  first  time,  that  his  face  was  beaded 
with  sweat 

"Might  I  inquire  just  what  you  intend  dtAng  with 
tt»a?"  I  asked,  gazing  back,  agamst  my  will,  at  the 
fragile  little  treasure  known  as  The  Flame. 

The  man  moved  uneasily,  and  for  the  first  time. 
For  the  first  time,  too,  he  spoke. 

"Give  it  to  its  owner,"  he  said. 

"And  who  is  its  owner?" 

He  k)oked  from  me  to  the  vase,  and  then  back 
again. 

"It  beknigs  to  a  pal  0*  mine  over  t'  Fifth  Avenue," 
he  had  the  effrontery  to  assert. 
"And  where  did  you  get  it?" 
**Out  o'  hock!" 


THE  CX-BLOOD  VASE 


33 


Ioottldn't  rcttrain  ft  toodi  of  jfTWtlffnrn  ••  mv 
giaaoe  f dl  on  the  til  too  doquent  iniplfnifntt  of 
burgfary. 

"And  you  expect  me  to  ■waflour  lliat?^  I  dftninded. 

''I  don't  give  a  dam'  what  you  swallow.  I  know 
the  trut'  when  Fm  sayin'  itt** 

"And  you're  telling  me  the  truth  ?"  I  found  it  hard 
to  keep  my  anger  within  bounds. 

"Sure,"  was  his  curt  answer. 

"That's  a  cowardly  lie  I"  I  cried  out  again.  "You're 
a  coward  and  a  liar,  like  all  your  sneaking  kind,  that 
dculk  about  dark  comers,  and  crawl  undo*  beds^  and 
arm  yourself  to  the  teeth,  and  stand  ready  to  murder 
innocent  women,  to  strike  them  down  in  the  dark, 
rather  than  be  found  out!  It's  cowardice,  the  lowest 
and  meanest  kind  of  cowardice!" 

The  sweat  stood  out  on  his  face  in  glistening  drops. 

"What's  eatin' you,  anyway  The  demanded.  "What 
'ave  I  done?" 

I  pushed  the  cluster  of  women's  jewelry  ck>ser  to 
hinL 

"VcmVe  done  some  of  the  meanest  and  dirtiest 
work  a  num  can  stoop  to.  You've  skulked  and  crawled 
and  slunk  through  tiie  dark  to  rob  women  and  chiK 
drenr 

"Who's  given  you  a  ficense  to  call  me  a  coward?" 

"Do  you  dare  to  intimate  there's  anything  but  tow 
and  arrant  cowardice  in  work  like  this?" 

"Just  try  it,"  he  said  with  a  grin  that  made  Us 
face  hideous. 

"Why  sbodd  I  try  it?"  I  demanded.     "Do  yon. 


34    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

•oppose  bectuse  I  don't  cany  a  jimmy  and  gun  that 
I  can't  face  honest  danger  when  I  need  tor 

I  glanced  round  at  my  den  walls,  studded  with 
^hies  as  they  were,  f wm  the  buH  moose  over  the 
fireplace  to  the  leopard  pel  jnder  my  heels.  The 
otfier  man  followed  my  glance,  hut  with  a  lipsatri 
of  contempt.  He  had  jumped  to  the  conclusion,  of 
«ouMe,  that  those  relics  of  encounter  in  the  open 
atood  as  a  sort  of  object-lesson  of  bravery  which  be- 
longed to  me  in  perscm. 

"Bah,"  he  said,  apparently  glad  to  crowd  me  off 
into  some  less  personal  side-issue,  "thafs  all  play- 
actm .  Get  up  against  what  I  have,  and  you'd  tone 
down  your  squeal.  Then  you'd  walk  into  the  real 
thmg." 

"The  real  thing,  black-jacking  chambermaids  and 
rmmng  like  a  pelted  cur  at  the  sight  of  a  brass  but- 
ton! 

I  could  see  his  sudden  wince,  and  that  it  took  an 
effort  for  him  to  speak. 

"You'd  find  it  took  nerve.  aU  right,  all  right,"  he 
retorted.  'And  the  kind  o'  nerve  that  ain't  a  cuff- 
shooter's  long  suit." 

My  movement  of  contempt  brought  him  a  step  or  two 
nearer.    But  it  was  Benson  who  spoke  first. 

"Hadn't  we  better  have  the  police,  sir?"  he  sue- 
g«ted.  The  burglar,  with  his  eyes  on  my  face,  stepprf 
still  closer  as  though  to  .  >ulder  any  such  suggw^ 
as  Benson's  out  of  the  issue. 

"You  just  go  out  in  the  middle  of  the  night,"  he 
went  on,  with  derisive  voluWKty.    "Go  out  at  night 


THE  OX-BLOOD  VASE 


3S 


and  look  at  a  hoiiae;  Stand  off,  and  look  at  h  good 
and  plenty.  Then  ask  youndf  who's  inside,  and  what's 
doin'  behind  them  brick  walls,  and  who's  awake,  and 
where  a  shot's  goin'  to  ctmte  from,  and  what  chances 
of  a  getaway  you'll  have,  and  the  size  of  the  bit  youll 
get  if  you're  pinched.  Just  stand  there  and  tell  your- 
self you've  got  to  get  inside  that  house,  and  make 
your  haul  and  get  away  with  the  goods,  that  you've 
got  to  do  it  or  go  with  empty  guts.  Try  it,  and  see 
if  it  takes  nerve." 

I  must  have  touched  his  professional  pride.  I  had 
trifled  with  that  ethical  totem-pole  that  k  ' -^own  as 
honor  among  thieves. 

"All  right,"  I  said,  suddenly  turning  on  him  as  die 
in^rati<Mi  came  to  me.  "We'll  try  it,  and  we'll  try 
it  tc^ether.  F<m>  I'm  going  to  nakc  you  take  this 
stuff  back,  and  take  it  back  to-night." 

I  could  see  his  face  doud.  Then  a  sudden  chai^ 
came  over  it  His  rat-like  eyes  actually  began  to 
twinkle. 

1  thmk  we  ought  to  have  the  police,  sir,"  reiter- 
ated Benson,  remembering,  doubtless,  his  encounter 
bdow-stairs.    "He's  an  uncommon  tridcy  one,  sir." 

I  saw,  on  more  sober  second  thought,  that  it  would 
be  giving  my  friend  too  mudi  rope,  too  many  chances 
for  treachery.  And  he  would  not  be  over-nice  m  his 
methods,  I  knew,  now  that  I  had  him  cornered.  A 
secmid  idea  occurred  to  me,  a  rather  intoxicating  one. 
I  stttldenhr  f eh  like  a  Cntsader  saving  from  poli^oiL 
a  sacred  relic  I  could  catch  the  whinq>er  of  some 
wdcenneled  sense  of  drama  m  tiie  affair. 


I 


[f  r 


36    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

J^Benson  -  I  sai^  «rm  going  to  leave  this  worthy 
gentleman  here  with  you.  And  while  you  look  afta: 
a^tl^  ^"^^  *°  '**"™  *'"  peach-bloom  vase  to  its 

"And  to  demonstrate  to  his  somewhat  cynical  cast 
of  mind  that  there's  nothing  extraordinaiy  in  his  par- 
ticular  hne  of  activity.  I  propose  to  return  it  in  Ae 
same  manner  that  it  was  taken." 

Benson  looked  troubled. 

:.  2^^"?  ^\^*  '"^«**"'*  ^*  «**  «»  »M  into 
abitoftaxjuble?  Couldn't  we  leave  it  until  morning, 
sir  and  talk  it  over  quiet-like  with  your  friend  Mr 
McCooey,  c^  with  Lieutenant  Helton,  sir.  or  the  gentle- 
man  from  the  Knkerton  office?" 

.  .'rf  •  1-!f  r  *  ^-*^«>t«^  ™n"»ng  for  hdp  over  such 
atnvi|aity?  Never.  Benson,  never!  You  will  maS 
yourself  comfortable  here  with  this  gallant  g^! 
n«n  of  the  black-jack,  and  keep  this  EandsomfaJt 
of  his  qmte  close  about  you  while  you're  doing  it 

^.rlTfS'"^  *^  '^\'^'  P*'~^  °^  P°^^^'"  back 
where  it  belongs,  even  though  I  have  to  face  a  dozen 

S^TntolfyslrntT  "^  '^"^^  °^  ^-^^^ 
Nobody.  I  have  more  than  once  contended,  is  alto- 
gether sane  after  midnight.  This  belief  came  back  to 
me  as  I  stood  before  that  gloomy-fronted  Fifth  Avenue 
house,  m  that  ebb-tide  hour  of  the  night  when  ev^ 
Broadway  is  empty,  wondering  what  lay  behind  the 
brownstone  mask,  asking  myself  what  dangers  luriced 


THE  OX-BLCX)D  VASE 


37 


about  that  inner  gloom,  speculating  as  to  what  sleep- 
ers stirred  and  what  eyes,  even  as  I  stood  there,  might 
be  alert  and  watching. 

As  Benson  had  suggested,  I  might  have  waited 
decorously  until  daylight,  or  I  might  have  quietly 
ascended  the  wide  stone  stqM  and  continued  to  ring 
the  electric  push-bell  until  a  sleepy  servant  answered 
it  But  that,  after  aU,  seemed  absurdly  tame  and 
commonplace.  It  was  without  the  slightest  tang  of 
drama,  and  I  was  as  waywardly  impatient  to  try  that 
enticing  tip-tilted  instrument  of  steel  on  an  opposing 
door  as  a  boy  with  a  new  knife  is  to  whitttt  on  the 
nursery  woodwork. 

There  was  a  tingle  of  novelty  even  in  standing  before 
a  grimly  substantial  and  altogether  foibidding>looking 
house,  and  being  conscious  of  the  fact  that  you  had 
decided  on  its  secret  invasion.  I  could  no  kxiger  deny 
that  It  tock  a  certain  criMte  form  of  nervt.  I  was 
convinced  of  this,  indeed,  as  I  saw  die  approaching 
figure  of  a  patrohnan  on  his  rounds.  It  caused  me^ 
as  I  f dt  the  jimmy  like  a  stayfaone  against  my  ribt^ 
and  the  flashlight  like  a  torp«lo-head  in  my  pocket* 
to  swing  promptly  about  into  Twelfth  Street  and  walk 
toward  Sixth  Avenue.  I  experienced  a  distinct  f^Um 
of  satisfactioa  as  the  patmllii^  footsteps  passed  north- 
ward up  the  quietness  of  the  avenue 

But  the  house  hsdf  seemed  as  impregnable  at  & 
fortress.  It  disheartened  me  a  little  to  find  that  not 
even  a  basement  grin  had  been  disturbed.  For  the 
secemd  time  I  turned  ai^  sauntered  i&ywly  toward 
Sixth  Avenue.    As  I  twoof  caitwanl  again  I  found 


38    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

that  the  last  house  on  the  side-strect,  the  house  abut- 
ting the  Fifth  Avenue  mansion  which  was  the  object 
of  my  attack,  was  vacant.  Of  that  there  could  be  no 
doubt  Its  doors  and  windows  were  sealed  with 
neatly  painted  shutters. 

This,  it  occurred  to  me,  might  mark  a  possible  line 
of  approach.     But  here  again  I  faced  what  seemed 
an  impregnable  position.    I  was  backing  away  a  little 
studying  that  boarded  and  coffin-like  front,  when  my 
hwl  grated  against  the  iron  covering  of  a  coal-chute. 
This  coal-chute  stood  midway  between  the  curb  and 
the  area  nuling.    I  looked  down  at  it  for  a  moment 
or  two.     Then  something  prompted  me  to  test  its 
edge  with  the  toe  of  my  shoe.    Then,  making  quite 
sure  that  the  street  was  e.npty,  I  stooped  down  and 
dutched  at  the  edge  of  the  iron  disk.    It  was  quite 
heavy.    But  one  tug  at  it  showed  me  that  its  lock- 
chain  had  been  forced  apart. 

It  took  but  a  moment  to  lift  the  metal  shield  to  one 
side  of  the  chute-head.  It  took  but  another  moment 
to  tower  myself  into  the  chute  itself.  I  could  see  that 
it  was  a  somewhat  ignominious  beginning.  But  I  felt 
buoyantly  sure  that  I  was  on  the  right  track  It  took 
an  effort  to  work  the  iron  disk  back  over  the  opening 
It  also  required  many  strange  contortions  of  the  body 
to  worm  my  way  down  into  that  narrow  and  dirty 
tunnel  ' 

My  rather  peremptory  advent  into  tiie  coal-bin 
resulted  m  a  startling  amount  of  noise,  noise  enough 
to  wake  the  soundest  of  sleepers.  So  I  croudied  there 
for  several  seconds,  inhaling  dust,  and  listening  and 


THE  OX-BLOOD  VASE 


39 


wondering  whether  or  not  the  walls  above  me  harbored 
a  caretaker.  Then  I  took  out  the  pocket  searchlight, 
ai^,  with  the  pressure  of  a  finger,  directed  my  ray  of 
illuminati<Mi  againct  a  wooden  partiticm  Insected  by 
a  painted  wooden  door. 

A  distinct  sense  of  disappointment  swq>t  throogh 
me  as  I  stooped  down  to  examine  tiiis  door  and 
found  that  it  had  already  been  forced  open.  I  knew, 
however,  that  I  was  following  in  the  footstqw  of  n^ 
more  e3q>erienced  predecessor.  Then  came  a  store- 
room, and  then  a  laundry-room,  with  another  jimr 
mied  door  at  the  head  of  the  stairway  leading  to 
the  first  floor. 

Here  I  stood  watting  and  listening  for  some  time. 
But  still  again  nothing  but  darkness  and  siknoe  and 
that  musty  aroma  peculiar  to  unocoqiied  houses  tur* 
rounded  me.  I  f dt  more  at  home  by  tins  time,  and 
was  more  leisurely  in  my  survey  of  the  passage  up* 
ward.  I  was,  of  course,  confronted  by  notiiing  nMM'e 
disturbing  tium  ghost-like  furniture  covered  w^  tick- 
ing and  crystal-hung  chandeliers  en-jased  in  diee8fr> 
drt  >  I  began  to  admire  my  friend  the  burglar's 
Mas  in  choosing  so  circuitous  and  yet  so  pro- 
t  J  a  path.  Thore  was  akm)6t  genius  in  it  His 
aavance,  I  felt  sure,  was  toward  the  roof.  As  I  had 
expected,  I  found  the  scuttle  open.  The  lock,  I  cookl 
see,  had  been  quite  cleverly  pidced.  And*  ao  far,  Hxn 
had  not  been  a  mishap^ 

Once  out  on  the  housetop,  however,  I  foRttw  tint 
I  would  have  lo  be  more  careful.  As  I  damlierad  up 
to  tiie  UUher  ooping-tilea  tiiat  auutod  tlw  Hot  of 


If 


40    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

the  next  roof,  I  knew  that  I  had  actually  broken  into 
the  enemy's  Unes.  Yet  the  way  stiU  seemed  clear 
enough.  For,  as  I  came  to  the  roof-scuttle  of  the 
second  house  I  found  that  it,  too,  remained  unlocked. 
My  predecessor  had  made  things  almost  disappointingly 
easy  for  me.  Yet,  in  another  way.  he  had  left  things 
doubly  dangerous.  I  had  to  bear  the  brunt  of  any 
nus-step  he  may  have  made.  I  was  being  called  to 
face  the  responsibiUty  of  both  his  intrusion  and  my 
own.  ^ 

So  it  was  with  infinite  precaution  that  I  Hfted  the 
scuttle  and  leaned  over  that  little  weU  of  darkness, 
inhahng  the  warmer  air  that  seeped  up  in  my  face. 
With  It  came  an  odor  quite  different  to  that  of  the 
house  I  had  just  left  There  was  somethmg  cxposi- 
tory  m  it,  something  more  vital  and  electric,  eloquent 
of  a  place  inhabited,  of  human  beings  and  their  lairs 
and  trails,  of  movement  and  life  and  vaguely  defined 
menaces.  It  was,  I  fanded,  a  good  deal  like  that  man- 
^eU  which  comes  down-wmd  to  a  stalked  and  wary 

I  stepped  down  on  the  iron  ladder  that  led  into 

flie  uncertain  darkness,  covering  the  trap  after  me  I 
began  to  feel,  as  I  groped  my  way  downward,  that 
the  whole  thing  was  becoming  more  than  a  game  I 
was  disturbed  by  the  thought  of  how  deep  I  had  ven- 
tured into  an  uncertainty.  I  began  to  be  oppressed 
by  the  thought  of  how  complicated  my  path  was  prov- 
ing. I  felt  intimidated  by  the  undetermined  intri- 
caaes  that  stiU  awaited  me.  A  new  anxiety  was  takin« 
possession  of  me,  a  sort  of  tew  fever  of  fear,  an  in- 


THE  OX-BLOOD  VASE 


4« 


creasing  impatience  to  rei^ce  n^  precious  porcdain, 
end  my  mission,  and  make  my  escape  to  the  open. 

It  began  to  dawn  on  me,  as  I  groped  lower  and 
lower  down  through  the  daticness,  that  a  burglar's 
calling  was  not  all  beer  and  skittles.  I  began  to  fed  s 
little  ashamed  of  n^  heroics  of  an  hour  before. 

Then  I  drew  up^  suddenly,  for  a  sound  had  crq>t  to 
my  ears.  The  tingle  that  ran  through  my  body  was 
not  wholly  one  of  fright  Yet,  as  I  stood  there  in 
the  darkness  with  one  hand  against  tiie  wall,  I  caught 
the  rhythm  of  a  slow  and  muffled  snoring.  There  was 
something  oddly  reassuring  in  that  reiterated  yibra^ 
tion,  even  though  it  served  to  emphasize  tiie  dangers 
that  surrounded  me.  It  was  not  unlike  the  sound  of 
a  bell-buoy  floating  up  to  a  fog-wrapped  liner's  bridge. 

I  was  no  kxiger  a  prey  to  any  feeling  of  hesitancy. 
I  was  already  too  deep  in  the  woods  to  think  of  turn- 
ing bade.  My  one  passion  now  was  to  complete  the 
drcuit,  to  emerge  <mi  the  other  side. 

I  began  to  wonder,  as  I  felt  for  the  stair  banister 
and  groped  my  cautious  way  down  the  treads,  just 
how  the  burglar  himself  had  effected  that  final  exit 
from  the  house.  And  the  sooner  I  got  away  £rom  the 
sleefMug  quarters,  I  felt,  the  safer  I  wouM  be.  Every 
bedroom  was  a  shoal  of  dangers,  and  m^  all  of  them, 
I  very  wdl  knew,  would  be  equipped  with  the  same 
gen«xms  whistiing-buoy  as  that  I  had  just  left  be- 
hind rat.  There  was,  too,  sometiiing  satisfying  in  the 
knowledge  that  I  was  at  least  getting  nearer  and 
nearer  the  ground-floor.  This  wcs  due,  not  so  mudi 
to  tiie  fact  that  I  was  approadiing  a  part  of  the  house 


4 


43    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

with  which  I  was  more  or  less  familiar,  but  more  u* 
the  fact  that  my  descent  marked  an  approach  to  some 
possible  pathway  of  escape.  For  that  idea  was  now 
uppermost  m  my  mind,  and  no  aviator  with  a  balky 
motor  ever  ached  to  get  Uck  to  earth  more  eagerly 
than  L  -~o    / 

The  utter  darkness  and  silence  of  the  lower  halls 
were  beginning  to  get  on  my  nerves.  I  was  glad  to  feel 
the  newel-post,  which  assured  me  that  I  had  reached  the 
last  step  in  my  descent  I  was  relieved  to  be  able  to 
turn  carefully  and  silently  about  to  the  left,  to  grope 
toward  a  door  which  I  knew  stood  before  me  in  the 
gloom,  and  then  cautiously  to  turn  the  knob  and  step 
mside.  *^ 

I  knew  at  once,  even  before  I  took  the  flashlight 
from  my  pocket,  that  I  was  in  the  library.  And  the 
room  that  opened  off  this.  I  remembered,  half  cabinet- 
lined  study  and  half  informal  exhibition-room,  was 
the  chamber  wherein  Anthony  Gubtill  treasured  his 
ainos  It  would  take  but  a  minute  or  two,  I  knew, 
to  replace  his  priceless  little  porcelain.  And  another 
mmute  or  two,  I  felt,  ought  to  see  me  safely  out  and 
on  my  way  home. 

I  stood  with  my  back  to  the  door,  determined  that 
no  untimely  blunder  should  mar  the  end  of  my  ad- 
venture^ My  first  precaution  was  to  thrust  out  my 
flashlight  and  make  sure  of  my  path.  I  let  the  incai^ 
descent  ray  finger  interrogatively  about  the  massively 
furnished  room,  resting  for  a  moment  on  marble  and 
metel  and  g^ass-fronted  book-shelf.  I  remembered, 
with  almost  a  smile  of  satisfaction,  the  Utde  ClytU 


THE  OX-BLOOD  VASE 


43 


above  the  fireplace,  and  the  HeU  in  bronze  that  stood 
beside  the  heavy  reading-lamp.  This  lamp,  GubtiU 
had  oQce  told  me,  had  come  from  Munich;  and  I 
remembered  his  chuckle  over  the  fact  that  it  had  come 
in  a  "sleeper"  trunk  and  had  evaded  duty. 

Then  I  let  the  wavering  light  travel  toward  the 
end  of  the  glimmering  and  dark-wooded  reading-table. 
I  stood  there,  picking  out  remembered  object  after  ob- 
ject, remarking  them  with  singular  detadiment  of  mind 
as  my  light  contmued  to  circle  the  end  of  the  room. 

Then  I  quietly  made  my  way  to  the  open  door  in 
the  rear,  and  bisecting  that  second  room  with  my 
spear  of  light,  satisfied  myself  that  the  space  between 
the  peach-bloom  amphora  and  the  ashes-of-roses  Yang 
Lao  with  the  ivory  base  was  indeed  empty. 

I  stood  listening  to  the  exotic  tick  of  a  brazen-dialed 
Roumanian  clock.  I  Kngercd  there,  letting  my  bald 
light-shaft  root  like  a  hog's-snout  along  that  shelf  so 
o-owded  with  delicate  tones  and  contours.  I  sighed  a 
little  enviously  as  I  turned  toward  the  other  end  of 
the  room. 

Then,  of  a  sudden,  I  stopped  breathing.  Auto- 
matically I  let  my  thumb  lift  from  the  current-spring 
of  my  storage-lamp  and  the  light  at  once  went  out 
I  stood  there  with  every  nerve  of  my  body  on  tA^ 
I  crouched  forward,  tingling  and  peering  into  tiie 
darkness  before  me.  For  I  had  suddenly  discovered 
that  I  was  not  akme  in  the  room. 

Ther^  facing  me,  picked  out  as  distinctly  as  a  baiy 
spot-Ught  picks  out  an  actor's  face,  I  had  seen  tfie 
owner  of  the  house  himself,  not  ten  paces  ftom  sk; 


HHillMIMiB 


44    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

He  wa«  sittiiig  in  a  high-backed  armchair  of  green 
w«ther.  He  must  have  been  watching  me  from  the 
first,  every  moment  and  every  movement    He  had 

niade  no  effort  to  intemqrt  or  intercept  me.  He  had 
been  too  sure  of  his  positioa 

I  waited  for  what  seemed  an  mtermuiable  length  of 
tome.  But  not  a  sound,  beyond  the  querulous  tide  of 
the  clock,  came  to  my  ears.  Not  even  a  movement 
took  place  in  the  darkness. 

The  undefined  menace  of  this  silence  was  too  much 
for  me.  The  whole  thing  grew  into  something 
strangely  like  a  nightmare.  I  moved  away,  involun- 
tonly,  wondering  what  I  should  say,  and  after  what 
fashion  I  should  begin  my  fodish  expUmation.  I 
crouched  low  and  backed  off  obliquely,  as  though  some 
value  lay  in  the  intervention  of  space,  and  as  though 
«Mncthmg  venomous  were  confronting  me;  I  feU 
dowly  back,  pawing  frenziedly  about  me  for  some  sus- 
tommg  tangibility  to  which  to  cling.  As  I  did  so  my 
body  came  in  contact  with  some  article  of  fiamiture— 
just  what  I  could  not  tcU.  But  I  shied  away  from 
It  m  a  panic,  as  a  colt  shies  at  a  fallen  newspaper. 

My  sudden  movement  threw  over  a  second  piece 
of  furmture.  It  must  have  leen  some  sort  of  col- 
hpsihlt  screen,  for  it  fell  to  the  floor  with  an  echoing 
oash.  I  waited,  holding  my  breath,  with  horripila- 
tions of  fear  ncttUng  every  limb  of  my  body,  knowing 
only  too  weU  that  this  must  indeed  mark  the  end. 

But  there  was  no  movement,  no  word  spoken,  no 
slightest  sound  I  stared  through  the  darkness,  stiQ 
half  expectant    I  tried  to  tell  myself  that  it  may  have 


THE  OX-BLOOD  VASE 


4$ 


.  tint  ei^eeUitt  aitiBtioB  had 
projected  into  toy  Une  of  tj^oo  a  purdjr  imegiiiafy 
figam  I  ttin  waited,  w^  nijr  hewt  poand&«L  Then 
the  taniion  became  mora  than  I  could  cndora.  I  ao- 
tually  crept  forwafd  a  step  or  two^  itffl  pecriBf  h&Mfy 
throm^  the  dariaiees»  stm  listenhif  and  wahmg; 

Then  I  caughl  way  breath  with  sodden  new  sot- 
picion,  widi  a  qnidc  fear  Oat  cruhed»  boQel-like^ 
through  the  fihn  of  consdonsness.  It  was  followed  br 


of 


to--«    * 
pilJfH" 


cal 

I  once  mora  raised  the  flash^gfat  This  time  07 
hand  shooic  perceptifaijr  as  I  turned  the  electric  ny 
directly  m  front  of  me.  I  let  the  mhwte  dide  of  il- 
lumination arrow  throqgh  d»e  daifcness*  direct  to  the 
whte  fue  that  seemed  to  be  awaith«  it  Then  I 
let  it  come  to  a  rast 

IreBwaherfalfinfbndcasteportwo.  Ina^hifv 
caned  out,  but  of  that  I  am  not  sure.  Yet  of  oat 
thfflg  I  was  onljr  too  certam.  Thera  bef ora  me  sat 
Anthony  GiditilL   He  wu  quit*  dead. 

My  first  feefing  was  not  altogether  one  of  tairar. 
It  was  accompanied  by  a  soige  of  faidigmtion  at  Hm 
mjustice,  at  the  brulafity,  of  it  aE  I  was  able  to 
make  note  of  the  quilted  dfesshig^fown  that  covered 
the  nbxed  body.  I  was  collected  enough  to  assume 
that  he  had  orerbeard  the  intrtider;  had  come  to  hi- 
vest^iate,  and  had  been  struck  down  and  cnmdngly 
thrust  into  a  chair.  This  hiference  was  foOowed  by 
a  fiaah  of  exultation  as  I  remembered  that  his  mur- 
derer was  known,  that  the  crime  could  easily  be  ptoved 


46    THE  MAN  WHO  CX)ULDNT  SLEEP 

■giiiHt  him,  dMt  even  at  the  pnesent  rooineiit  he  was 
•afe  in  Beneoo'e  embody, 

I  moved  towrd  the  dmd  man,  fortified  by  the 
fawwiedge  of  avert  new  oMigatioo.  It  was  only  after 
I  had  examhied  the  iace  for  a  Mcond  time  and  teen 
how  death  had  been  caused  by  a  cnaeily  heavy  blow» 
dealt  by  some  bltmt  instrument*  that  Ae  enormity  of 

my  own  intnision  mto  that  house  of  horror  came  home 
to  me.  I  felt  a  sudden  need  for  light,  for  soberiiw 
and  rBtionaUzinir  hf ht  Even  the  tiddn^  from  tiie 
brazen-faced  clock  had  become  something  pt»««#..»|,| 
and  unnenring; 

I  groped  leverisUy  and  Uindly  about  in  search  of 
•ndectric  switch-button.  Then,  of  a  sudden.  I  stopped 
•gam,  my  movement  arrested  by  a  sound 

I  knew,  as  I  stood  and  listened,  that  it  was  only  the 
purr  of  an  automobile,  faint  and  muflkd  from  the 

^outside.    But  it  suddenly  brought  home  to  me 
tte  awkwardness  of  my  powtion.   To  be  found  m  that 
house,  or  even  to  be  seen  leaving  it.  was  no  longer  a 
desirable  thing.    My  foolhardy  caprice,  before  an  ae- 
tuah^  so  overawing,  dwindled  mto  somethmg  worse 
than  absurdity.    And  thought  came  hade  at  a  bound 
to  the  porcelain  m  my  pocket    I  recaUed  the  oM-timc 
nvahy  between  tfie  dead  man  and  myself  for  The 
FTwne.    I  recaUed  the  details  of  my  advent  between 
tiK)ee  walls  where  I  stood.    And  my  blood  wept  cold. 
It  was  not  a  matter  of  awkwardness;  it  was  a  matter 
of  peril    For  wh<^  I  agam  asked  myself,  wodd  be- 
lieve a  story  so  absurd,  or  accept  an  excuse  so  extrava- 
gant? 


THE  0}C4nX)0D  VASE 


47 


The  doek  tidnd  on  aecnifawfy;  Tbt  Mmid  of  tlw 
antoaobae  Stopped.  I  had  juat  aotod  this  with  nUcf 
when  the  thud  of  a  qoictijr  doaed  door  leU  on  mf 
•tankdean.  Then  came  the  mtmnur  of  vokea.  There 
was  no  iooger  any  doubt  about  the  matter.  A  motor 
had  come  to  the  door,  and  from  it  certain  persons  had 
ciUered  the  house. 

Icrepttotiiefifaimtyandliatcaed.    Then  I  t^itoed 
back  and  dosed  the  door  of  the  hmer  toom.    I  fdt 
more  secure  with  even  a  half-inch  pand  between  me; 
and  what  that  inner  room  hdd. 

Then  I  listened.  I  begin  to  hear  the  padded  tread 
of  feet  Then  came  the  sound  of  another  opened  door, 
and  then  the  snap  of  a  lii^-switcfa.  There  was  noth- 
hig  secret  about  the  new  imraskm.  I  knew,  as  I  shrank 
back  behind  one  of  the  high-backed  Ubraiy  chairs,  that 
the  front  of  tiie  house  was  already  iHuminatcd. 

Then  came  the  sound  of  a  caUmg  voices  9ppu*atfy 
from  die  head  of  the  stairs.  It  was  a  cautious  and 
carefuHy  moduhited  voice;  I  to6k  it  for  that  of  a  young 
man  of  about  twenty. 

**!«  that  you,  Caddyr 

Then  came  a  silence. 

'1  say,  is  that  you,  Orrie  r  was  demanded  m  a  some* 
what  somnoleat  8tage>whi»r'Cr,  There  was  souietM^ 
strangely  reaasuring  m  that  comnRx^laceboykh  voice 
Anthony  Gt^'fi,  I  knew,  fmd  no  itHiMt>4Jtrtff  haafy.  I 
vagudy  recalled,  however,  some  talc  of  a  Canadian 
nephew  and  nieee  who  had  at  times  visited  him. 

"Sb— •— ehr  saul  a  woman's  vdce  from  the  tower 
!ia£l  <l>ont  wake  Uttde  Anthony." 


4S    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

It  mntt  h&ve  bam  a  yomg  womaa.    Her  voice 

•ounded  ptMhe^  Ilia  that  of  a  girt  who  miflit  be  com- 
tnf  home  tired  from  «  dance  at  Shm/i.  fYet,know- 
ing  what  I  did,  its  girUih  wcariaett  took  oa  a  oatboe 
indeicribabiy  potgrntnt. 

"Iff  aa  awful  hour,  isn't  it? '  aaiced  a  Mcond  men's 
voice  from  the  lower  hall.  There  were  sounds  that 
•eemed  to  imply  that  wmps  were  being  removed. 

"Ahnost  four,"  came  the  at  sv.er  from  above.  "Had 
»  good  time;  CaMyr 

I  heard  a  stifled  yawn. 

"Rather/'  aoswered  the  girf s  voice 

"I  say,  Orrie^  bring  up  tfaoee  Igyptkm  gaspers  for 
«  puff  or  two,  will  your  requested  the  youth  from 

above^  still  in  a  stage-ndusper.    "An4  Caddy,  be  sure 
the  latdi  is  oil" 

"On  vdiatr  deman^d  Orrie. 

"^  door,  joa  Mfiotr  was  the  sleepily  good-natured 
retort. 

Then  I  wddcnly  ducked  low  behind  my  diair4ack, 
for  the  young  man  caUed  Orrie  had  iimg  open  the 
Kbrarydoor.  He  came  into  the  room  grof»ag]y,  with- 
out switehjrig  on  the  electrics.  I  co^  see  his  trim 
young  shoulders,  and  the  white  Uur  of  his  tUrt>f  ront 
Behind  him,  framed  in  the  doorway,  stood  a  young 
girt  of  about  twenty,  a  blonde  in  p^  btoe,  wi  A  bare 
arms  and  bare  shoulders.  Her  dm  looked  very  soft 
and  baby-iaee  in  the  strong  »dd%fat  I  coukf  not  re- 
press something  that  was  afanost  a  shodder  itf  ^ 
bought  of  this  careless  gaiety  and  youA  so  close  m 
the  grim  tragedy  behind  me,  so  unconsckwe  of  the 


THE  OX-BLOOD  \  ASE  49 

ainiiiniiif  tint  nag^  eomn  to  ti^on  i^  aJmoirt  t^ny 


'*D0  hanyr  mM  the  t  red  girl,  m  the  jomg  mm 
about  the  tabte-cnd.  I  reiUiied,  as  I  peeped 
out  at  htr,  that  my  fim  duty  wouW  be  t.  keep  those 
found  young  eyes  from  what  ^0xt  confnmt  them  in 
tlttt  iniwr  room. 

**Vvt  got  'c  iif  an  wefed  '^t  mmL  He  Hood  a 
momeiit  widKHit  movfcg  T^  he  ti'^  sd  md  waUced 
out  of  the  room,  quietly  ck»if      he       r  beh'  id  him. 

I  oiatted  a  g-«^>p  of  reliei  a  ,p  0    **  more. 

Nothii^  aTi  ve  nr  >ad,  I  'etenr.  -  sr  oold  i  v  keep 
me  in  tl-^  housR  Yet  for  Hth  new-bom  ecsitasy  of 
impatte^ce,  I  ««•  sdfl  nipclled  to  wait,  for  I  could 
he^"  the  oecasi^iaai  soi  of  feet  and  a  whisper  or  two 
imm  behind  the  dos»  1  door.  Then  all  sound  died 
away  the  Hoom  and  sricnce  again  engulfed  me; 

I  took  tr     Yai^  L-.    porcelain  from  my  pocket,  un- 

wr^ifedit.and  T^.    iJct^theimierroom.  Igroped 

along  the  wan  it  the  darkn  >s,  circling  wide  about  the 

gre^4eather  chair    i  the  center.    I  put  the  rase  back 

on  it-^  cabinet,  without  so  much  as  flashing  my  light 

rten  I  arc  ed  back  along  the  wall,  felt  for  the  library 

ioor,  atid  g   )ped  cautiously  across  the  perilous  breadth 

f  the  tiinjitur --crowded  diamber.    It  tcok  me  several 

seco  ds  to  fine    he  door  that  opened  into  the  ludlway. 

Once  through        uu  across  the  hall,  I  knew,  only  a 

spring-latch  stood  between  me  and  the  street    So  I 

turned  the  knob  quickly  and  swm^  back  the  door. 

But  I  did  not  pass  through  it    For,  instead  of  dark- 
ness, I  found  mysdf  confronted  fay  a  blaze  of  I^fat 


so    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

In  that  Maze  of  Kght  stood  three  waiting  and  e3q)ectaitt 
figures.  What  most  disturbed  me  was  the  fact  that 
the  man  called  Orrie  held  in  his  hand  a  revolver  that 
seemed  the  size  of  a  toy-cannon.  This  was  leveled 
directly  at  my  blinking  eyes.  The  other  youth,  in 
cerise  pajamas  with  orange  colored  frogs  and  a  dress- 
ing-gown tied  at  the  waist  with  a  silk  girdle,  stood  just 
behind  him,  holding  an  extremely  wicked-lookmg  Sav- 
age of  the  magazine  make.  Behind  this  youth  again, 
close  by  the  newel-post,  stood  the  girl  in  blue^  aU  the 
sleepiness  gone  out  of  her  face. 

The  sight  of  that  wide-eyed  and  eager  trio  irritated 
me  beyond  words.  There  was  no  longer  any  thriU  m 
the  thing.  I  had  gone  through  too  much ;  I  could  not 
react  to  this  newer  emergency.  I  kept  wondering  if 
the  idiot  with  the  Colt  realized  just  how  delicate  a 
pressure  would  operate  the  trigger  on  which  I  could 
see  his  finger  shaking.  But  that  shake,  it  was  plain, 
was  more  from  excitement  than  fear. 

*'WeVe  got  himl"  cried  the  youth  in  the  cerise 
pajamas.  I  might  have  been  a  somewhat  obstinate 
black  bass  wheedled  into  his  ianding^et,  from  the  way 
hespdce. 

"Don't  moveP'  commanded  the  older  of  the  two^ 
wrinkling  his  brow  mto  a  frown  of  youthful  determina- 
tion. 'Don't  you  dare  move  one  inch,  or  Ffl  pot  a 
hole  throuj^  you.** 

I  had  no  intenticm  of  <iKyvtng. 

"Watch  his  hands,"  prompted  the  younger  man. 
"He  ought  to  put  'em  upt" 

"Yes,  Orrie,  he  ought  to  put  them  i^,**  echoed  Ae 


THE  OX-BLOOD  VAtSE 


SI 


girl  by  the  ncwd-post  She  reminded  meb  with  her 
delicate  whites  and  pinks  and  Uues,  of  the  cabinet  of 
porcelain  at  which  I  had  so  recently  stared. 

"Back  up  through  the  door,"  cried  Orrie.  "Come 
on— back  upr 

I  wearily  obqred  this  somewhat  equine  order.  Then 
he  commanded  me  to  hold  my  hands  above  my  head. 
I  did  so  without  hesitation;  I  had  no  wish  to  argue 
while  that  Colt  was  staring  me  in  the  eyes. 

They  followed  me,  Indian  file,  into  the  room.  It 
was  the  girl  who  closed  the  door  as  Orrie  switched 
on  the  lights.  She  stood  with  her  back  to  it,  studying 
my  face.  I  could  see  that  I  rather  interested  them  all 
But  in  that  interest  i  detected  no  touch  of  either  friend- 
liness or  respect  The  only  one  I  seemed  to  mystify 
was  the  girl  at  the  door. 

"Have  you  anything  to  sayf'  demanded  Orrie^ 
squaring  his  shoulders. 

"Yes,  I  have  a  great  deal  to  say,"  I  toM  hhn.    •'But 
I  prefer  sayii^  it  to  you  atone." 
I  could  see  his  movement  of  disdain. 
"WiU  you  listen  to  thatP  commented  the  youth  In 
Uie  cerise  pajamas. 

"And  if  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  stop  poking  &at 
pistol  in  my  face,"  I  continued  with  some  heat,  "and 
then  send  these  children  out  of  the  room,  I  shaO  mw 
what  I  have  to,  and  do  it  very  briellyr 

"CWIdrenl"  came  in  an  ind^naol  gasp  from  tiie 
giri  at  the  door. 

"We'B  t^k  by  you,  (^  aaei,**  ^^ed  die  youth- 
fill  hero  fa  ceffte^  wfth  1^  iMiit  w«0  i9Wt 


Sa    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

"And  just  why  should  I  closet  myself  with  a  bur- 
Jlar?"  inquired  the  astute  Orrie,  staring  at  me  with  the 
utmost  insolence.  Yet  I  could  see  that  at  least  the 
precision  of  my  articulation  wfs  puzzling  him  a  bit. 

"Thaf  8  asinine,"  I  retorted.  "I'm  not  a  burglar, 
and  you  ought  to  know  it" 

To  my  astonishment,  a  littie  tripartite  ripple  of 
laughter  greeted  this  statement. 

"Then  what  are  you?"  asked  the  incredulous  Orrie. 

I  knew  there  was  no  further  use  beating  about  the 
bush. 

"Yes,  who  are  you?"  demanded  the  other  youth. 

He  still  held  the  magazine-revolver  balanced  in  his 
right  hand.    The  truth  had  to  come  out 

"I'm  Witter  Kerfoot"  I  told  them,  as  steadily  as  I 
could.    "Kerfoot,  of  Gramercy  PSark  West" 

**What  number?*' 

I  gave  him  the  number.  I  could  see  the  trio  ex- 
change  glances;  they  were  plainly  glances  of  amuse- 
ment My  young  friends,  I  could  see,  were  enjoying 
a  home  melodrama,  a  mdodrama  in  which  I  was  ob- 
viously the  most  foolish  of  vilUins.  I  began  to  feel 
a  good  deal  like  a  phonograph  grinding  out  a  comic 
record. 

"And  with  that  face!"  ejaculated  the  man  called 
Orrie. 

The  quiet  contempt  of  his  glance  caused  me  to  shift 
about,  10  I  ooold  catch  a  gKmpM  of  myself  in  the 
Venetian  mirror  between  the  book-shelves.  That 
^mpte  WIS  indeed  a  startHi^  one.  I  had  quite  for^ 
gotten  tfie  transit  through  die  coal-hole.    I  couM  not 


THE  OX-BLOOD  VASE 


53 


even  remembei  how  or  when  I  broke  my  hat-ctown. 
I  had  remained  as  unconscious  of  the  scratch  across 

my  cheek  as  I  was  of  the  garret  cobwebs  that  festooned 
myctething.  I  saw  as  I  peeped  into  the  mirror  only 
a  sickly-hued  and  grimy-looking  footpad  with  dirty 
hands  and  a  broken  hat  It  was  no  wonder  they 
laughed.  My  environment  for  the  kst  hour  had  not 
been  one  that  tended  toward  consciousness  of  attire; 
I  was  about  to  remove  my  disgracefully  disfiguring 
headgear  when  the  younger  man  swung  about  on  me 
with  tlie  Savage  thrust  point-bUuik  in  my  face. 

"Don't  try  any  of  that !"  he  gisptd.  **You  keep  up 
those  hands." 

The  whole  situation  was  so  beside  the  marie»  was 
so  divorced  from  the  sterner  problem  confronting  both 
them  and  myself,  that  it  dispirited  and  angerad  me. 

**We*vc  had  about  cnoogh  of  tiiis  tommy-fot!"  I 


**Yes,  weH  cut  out  the  tommy-ro^  and  get  hhn 
tied,**  prodahned  the  man  with  die  Colt 
**Then  teuth  him  fint."  pron^ted  the  ymmg  nan. 

"Here.  CaAfy,  lake  Orrie's  Grft  while  he  goes  through 
hba,"  he  comnnnded.  hi  the  clicst-toacs  ol  a  newly, 
•cqoifed  savagery,  "and  if  he  tries  to  move,  vrioff 
himf* 

The  girl,  wide-eyed  and  reluctant,  took  the  heavy 
«^w^iw.  Tta  Orrie  advanced  on  me.  thm^  hi  an 
alNrtiier  -.  and  tight^^ped  maimer.  To  ceo- 
warn  wj  prv    a,  I  saw.  woidd  be  oidy  to  waite  my 

hemOL    There  was  ne^ig  to  do  b^  ^n^  to  th« 
raroe. 


54    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 


[5 


1  J=i 


I  said  nothing  as  he  produced  the  telltale  flashligfiit 
I  also  renuuned  silent  as  he  tritimphantly  tmearthed 
the  jimn^  and  the  damnatory  dceletcMi  keys.  I  could 
see  the  interchange  of  exultant  glances  as  these  were 
tossed  out  on  the  polished  taUe-top. 

"Get  the  straps  from  the  golf  bags !"  suggested  the 
youth  with  the  Savage.  I  could  not  hdp  remember- 
ing how  this  scene  was  paralleling  another  of  the  same 
nature  and  the  same  night,  whoi  Benson  and  I  had 
been  the  masters  of  the  situaticm. 

The  man  called  Orrie  seemed  a  little  nonplussed  at 
the  fact  that  he  had  found  no  valuables  in  my  outer 
podcets,  but  he  did  not  give  up.  He  grimly  ignored 
n^  protests  as  he  explored  still  deeper  and  dt^  out 
my  mcmogramed  wallet,  and  then  a  gold  dgarette-case, 
on  which  toy  name  was  duly  inscribed.  He  turned 
them  over  in  his  hand  a  couple  of  times  and  examined 
them  carefully.  Then  a  great  lig^t  seemed  to  come  to 
him.  He  succumbed,  as  even  his  elders  have  done,  to 
a  sudden  sense  of  drama. 

I  saw  him  dart  to  tiie  outer  room  and  catch  up  a 
telephone  directory.  He  riffled  throu|^  the  pages  with 
quidc  and  inpatient  fingers.  Then  he  strode  bi^  and 
located  me  up  and  down. 

"I  know  what  this  man's  don^"  he  cried,  hit  eyes 
iligfat  with  conviction. 

"What?"  donaiMted  the  younger  man. 

"He's  visited  toon  than  this  house  toHiigfat  He's 
gone  through  Witter  Kerfoot's,  as  well.  He's  taken 
tii«ie  tMngs  f  n»n  there  And  now  ifsuptoutto  takt 
him  hack  with  tkemr 


THE  OX-BLOOD  VASE  55 

'  I  could  see  the  sheer  theatricality  of  the  situation 
clutch  at  his  two  listeners.  I  could  see  them  surmider 
to  It,  although  the  girl  stiU  seemed  to  hesitate. 

"Hadn't  I  better  caU  Uncle  Anthony?"  she  sug- 
gKted. 

At  one  breath  her  words  brought  me  back  to  both 
the  tragedy  that  lay  so  close  at  hand,  and  the  perilous 
con^lexity  of  my  own  position. 

"No,  that's  foolish  I"  cut  in  Orrie  "The  car's  stiU 
outside.  Caddy,  I  think  you'U  have  to  com*  along. 
You  can  sit  with  Jansen  on  the  driving-seat" 

The  hero  of  the  maneuver  turned  back  to  me.  I 
was  thinking  mostly  of  the  soft-eyed  giri  with  the 
baby-white  skin,  and  how  I  couM  get  her  safely  away. 

"WiU  you  come  quietly?"  my  captor  demanded  of 
me. 

**Yes,"  I  answered,  without  k)oking  up^  "I'll  come 
quietly." 

It  was  the  girl's  vofce,  a  little  shrill  with  excitement, 
that  next  broke  the  silence. 

"Orrie,  he's  not  a  bur^T'  she  cried  out,  in  her 
treble-noted  conviction. 

"Then  what  is  her 

"He's  a  gentleman." 

"What  makes  you  think  so?"  demanded  the  indif- 
ferent Orrie  as  he  moCkmed  me^  with  a  curt  mofe- 
raent  of  his  Cblt-barrd,  toward  the  hall  door. 

"I  know  by  his  nailsf  was  her  inconsequential  yet 
fpAt  ddbiiterqrfy. 

Onh  laughed. 

Thaa  you'd  give  tea  and  macarooot  to  every  bww 


m 


S6    THE  MAN  WHO  COULD.^'T  SLEEP 

glarious  barber  out  of  Sing  Sing,"  he  scoffed.    "And 
oar  real  answer's  waiting  for  us  in  Gramercy  Square." 

It  seemed  to  take  but  a  minute  or  two  in  the  car 
to  swing  us  from  Twelfth  Street  up  to  Twentieth, 
and  then  eastward  into  the  stillness  of  the  square. 
My  captors  had  insisted  that  I  should  not  talk.  "Not 
a  word!"  commanded  Orrie,  and  I  could  fed  his  in- 
solent gun-barrel  against  nty  ribs  as  he  gave  the  com- 
mand  for  the  second  time.  They  were  drunk,  I  could 
see,  with  the  intoxication  of  their  exploit  They  were 
preoccupied  with  inhaling  their  subde  sense  of  drama. 
With  the  dictatorial  self-sufficiency  of  true  inebriety 
they  had  enjoined  me  from  every  effort  at  explana- 
tion. The  bubUe,  they  felt,  was  far  too  pretty  a  one 
to  be  pricked. 

Thty  alighted,  one  in  front  of  me  and  one  bdiind 
me,  still  carrying  their  foolish  and  murderous-looking 
firearms.  The  girl  remained  in  her  seat  Then  the 
three  of  us  grimly  ascended  my  steps. 

"It's  needless  to  ring  the  bell,"  I  we»ay  i^rpi^Sii4 
"My  pass-key  will  admit  you." 

"But  I  insist  on  ringing,"  said  Orrie  as  I  fitted  the 
key  to  the  lock. 

"I  shall  be  compelled,  in  that  case,  to  call  the  officer 
who  is  watching  us  from  the  comer,**  was  my  ^et 
ivsponse. 

"Call  and  be  hanged,  thenf  was  the  younger  mmii 
uramatum. 

One  word  over  their  shoulders  broioght  my 

frieid  McCoo^,  the  pa^rdman,  across  the  coma- 

up  the  steps.    I  symmg  open  the  door  as  he  jofawd  us. 


THE  OX-BLOOD  VASE  57 

Then  I  tttrned  on  the  faaU  lamps  and  faced  m  two 
capton.  ^' 

"Oflicer,  I  want  you  to  look  at  me  very  carefully, 
and  then  assure  these  gendemen  I  am  Witter  Kerfoot, 
the  owner  and  occupant  of  this  house." 

"Sure  he's  Kerfoot,"  said  the  unperturbed  McCoo^. 
But  what's  the  throuMe  this  time?" 

"Something  more  serious  than  these  gentlemen 
dream  of.  But  if  the  three  of  us  will  go  quietly  up- 
stairs,  youTl  find  my  man  Benson  there.  You'U  also 
find  another  man,  tied  up  with  half  a  doren— " 

McCooey,  from  the  doorway,  cut  me  short 

I'm  sorry,  sir,  but  I  can't  be  stayin'  to  see  your 
joke  out."  ^ 

"But  you've  got  to." 

"Fact  is,  sir."  he  explained,  in  a  lowered  voice. 

Creegan,  av  Headquarthers,  has  a  Sing-Sing  lifer 

bottled  up  in  this  Wock.  and  I'm  holdin'  wan  end  ar 

f.-5'^  ^^^"^  jail-breaker,  sir,  and  «  tridy  wan, 
called  Pip  Foreman,  the  RatP'  ^     -^ 

'The  Rat?"  I  echoed. 

"The  same,  sir.    But  I  must  be  off." 

"Don't  go,"  I  said,  closing  the  door.    "Your  ma^s 
up-stairs,  vrnHng  for  yout" 

"Waitin'  for  me?"  he  demanded.    ''What  man?" 
"The  °»n  they  can  the  Rat,"  I  tried  to  explain  ta 
ten.     And  TB  be  gw^  oh%^  to  yoB.  McCooev 
If  youTl  make  as  short  woric  of  thii  iitaiiion  „  Jo 

*^i^*^  °' ***««**«•  ^  I  ^«J  «*ber  tinrf. 
^^  tee*  five  or  sk  boon  of  good  JwMrt  ileep 


CHAPTER  in 


I 


THS  SIOULS  WHSBL-COOB 

T  WAS  in  for  a  night  of  it  I  realiied  that  as  I 
A  lay  bock  in  my  big  green  library-duir  and  closed 
my  eyet.  For  somewhere  just  in  front  of  those  tightly 
closed  lids  of  mine  I  could  still  see  a  briskly  revolving 
sort  of  pin-whed,  glowing  like  a  milk-white  orange 
against  a  murky  violet  fog  that  paled  and  darkened 
with  every  beat  of  my  pulse. 

I  knew  the  symptoms  only  two  welL  The  entire 
encanqmient  of  Consciousness  was  feverishfy  awake» 
was  alert,  was  on  the  qm<we.  That  pulsuig^  white 
pin-whed  was  purdy  a  personal  matter  between  me 
and  my  imagination.  It  was  something  distinctly  my 
own.  It  was  Me.  And  bdng  essentially  subjective, 
it  couhl  be  ndther  banished  nor  controlled. 

So  I  dedded  to  make  for  die  open.  To  think  of  a 
four-poster,  in  any  such  era  of  intensified  wakefubess, 
would  be  a  mockery.  Far  I  was  the  arena  of  that 
morbid  wakefuhiess  which  brought  with  it  an  over- 
crowded mental  consdousness  of  existence  far  beyond 
my  own  physical  vision,  as  though  I  had  been  appointed 
night-watchman  for  the  whole  round  workl,  with  a 
seardiing  eye  on  all  its  multitudinous  activities  and 
aberrations.  I  seemed  aUe  to  catch  its  breathing  as 
it  slept  ha  cosmic  sleeps  I  seemed  to  brood  wi^  luntf 
akmfeess  above  its  teeming  j^ins,  dq»Ftt^  by  its 
eamnKnis  dimensions,  confused  l^  its  iaoonmrdwii- 

58 


THE  STOLEN  WHEEL<X)DE  59 

•ibie  tangle  fead  clutter  of  critMvoM  deMinies.  Itt 
uncountable  midnight  voices  teemed  to  merge  into  a 
vague  ajgh,  to  pensively  remote,  so  miexptess&ly 
tragic  that  ykhm  I  stood  in  my  doorway  and  caught 
the  sound  of  a  harebrained  young  Romeo  go  wMstliog 
down  past  the  Hayers'  Qub  his  shriU  re-piping  of  a 
Broadway  xoof-song  seemed  more  than  dkoordant;  it 
seemed  desecration.  The  fool  was  happy,  when  the 
whole  world  was  sitting  with  its  fists  dendied,  await- 
ixig  some  widefined  doom. 

It  was  Inng  past  midnight,  I  remenOiered  as  I  dosed 
the  door.  For  it  must  have  been  an  hour  and  moia 
•ince  I  had  looked  out  and  seen  the  twelve  mfay 
flashes  from  the  topmost  peak  of  the  MetropoUtan 
Tower  signaling  its  dotorous  message  that  another 
dayhadgone.  I  had  watched  those  twelve  winks  with 
a  shddng  heart,  finding  somethmg  saidonic  hi  their 
brisk  levity,  for  I  had  been  remnided  by  a  tdltale  neu- 
rasthenic twitdung  of  my  r^  cydld  that  some  ngfing 
Satan  known  as  Insomnia  was  once  more  tuggfaif^  and 
jerkmg  at  my  soul,  as  a  fly^iocik  tuga  and  jerks  at  a 
trout's  mouth. 

1  knew,  even  as  I  wandered  drearily  off  inm  mf 
house-door  and  paced  as  drearily  roond  and  rowid  Hm 
iron-fence  park  endosnre,  that  I  was  destined  for 
another  sleepless  n^^  And  I  had  no  hitemfon  of 
paasing  it  cooped  19  between  four  walls.  Ihndtried 
that  before,  and  in  tiiat  way,  I  rtmmjbeied,  andnesi 
Uy. 

Sol  wandered  renlessiy  on  tlavN^  tfii  JlfirrHJ 
streets,  with  no  aethre  tho^  of  *ift"Biiftn  aai  m 


60    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

immediate  sense  of  direction.  AU  I  remembered  was 
that  tlie  dty  lay  about  me,  batized  in  a  night  of  ex- 
ceptional mildness,  a  night  that  should  have  left  it 
beautiful  But  it  lay  about  me,  in  its  stilhiess,  as  dead 
and  flat  and  stale  as  a  tumbler  of  tepid  wine. 

I  flung  myself  wearily  down  on  a  bench  in  Madison 
Square,  facing  the  slowly  spurting  fountain  that  had  so 
often  seemed  to  me  a  sort  of  visible  pulse  of  the  skep- 
hig  dty.  I  sat  peering  idly  up  at  tiie  Flatiron  Build- 
ing, where  like  an  eternal  plowshare  it  tiirew  its  eternal 
cross  furrows  of  Fifth  Avenue  and  Broadway  along 
tiie  dt/s  tangled  stubbk  of  steel  and  stone.  Then  I 
peered  at  the  sleepers  all  about  me,  the  happy  sleepers 
huddled  and  qirawled  along  tiie  park  benches.  I  en- 
vied them,  every  mortal  of  that  ragged  and  homeless 
army!  I  ahnost  hated  them.  For  they  were  drinking 
deep  of  the  one  tiling  I  had  been  denied. 

As  I  kxinged  tiiere  with  my  hat  pulled  down  over 
my  eyes,  I  listened  to  tiie  soothing  purr  and  si^sh  of 
tiie  ever-pulsing  fountain.  Then  I  let  my  gaze  wander 
disconsohtdy  southward,  out  past  the  bronze  statue  of 
Seward.  I  watched  the  driver  of  a  Twenty-third 
Street  taxkab  of  tiie  "night-hawk"  variety  asleep  on 
his  seat  He  sat  there  in  his  faded  hat  and  coat,  as 
motionless  as  metal,  as  though  he  had  loomed  there 
through  all  the  ages,  like  a  brazen  statue  of  Slumber 
under  his  mellowing  patina  of  time. 

Then,  as  I  gazed  idly  northward,  I  suddenly  forgot 
tiie  fountain  and  the  night-hawk  chauffeur  and  the 
sleepers.  For  out  of  Fifth  Avenue,  past  where  tiie 
doidite   row   of   dectric    globes    swung   down   the 


THE  STOLEN  WHEEL-CODE 


6i 


gentle  slope  of  Murray  HiU  like  a  doable  pctri-itraad 
down  a  woman's  brout,  I  caught  tiglit  of  a  figura 
turning  quietly  into  the  quietness  of  the  squan.  It 
attracted  and  held  my  eye  because  it  seemed  the  only 
movement  in  that  place  of  utter  stiUness,  where  even 
the  verdigris-tinted  trees  stood  as  motionless  as  though 
they  had  been  cut  from  plates  of  copper. 

I  watched  tiie  figure  as  it  drew  nearer  and  nearer. 
The  lon^  mididght  seemed  to  convert  die  casual 
stroller  into  an  emissary  of  mystery,  into  something 
compelling  and  momentous.  I  sat  indolently  back  on 
my  park  bench,  peering  at  1^  as  he  drifted  hi  under 
the  milk-white  arc  lai^s  whoie  scattered  gfobes  wen 
so  l&e  a  scurry  of  bubbles  caught  in  the  ti«e  branches. 

I  watched  the  stranger  as  dosdy  as  a  traveler  hi  mid- 
ocean  watches  the  approach  of  a  londy  sleamer.  I 
did  not  move  as  he  stood  for  a  moment  beside  the 
fountain.  I  gave  no  ngn  of  life  as  he  looked  sbwly 
about,  hesitated,  and  Aen  crossed  over  to  the  end  of 
the  very  bench  on  whidi  I  sat  There  was  someUiing 
military-like  about  the  sUm  young  figure  in  its  un- 
timely and  uicongruous  cape  overcoat  Thei«  was  also 
somediing  alert  and  guardedly  observant  in  the  man's 
movements  as  he  settled  hknsdf  bade  in  the  bench.  He 
sat  there  fisCening  to  the  purr  and  splash  of  ^  water. 
Then,  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  tioM^  he  was 
last  adeqK 

I  still  sat  beside  him.  I  was  still  t<fiy  pooderhy  who 
and  what  the  newcomer  could  be,  when  anoAer  move- 
ment attracted  my  attention.  It  was  tiie  akaoet  silent 
^iproadi^  a  second  and  Uuger  ^^ire,  the  figure  <rf 


6a    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

a  wide-timsiderBd  nmi  in  navy  blue  ttrgi^  ptitinf 
qnieUjr  in  between  the  double  ltn«  of  bench  tteepen. 
He  drded  onoe  about  the  greiuu-lawled  rfaif  of  the 
fountain.  Hien  he  dropped  diffident^  faito  the  eeiift 
next  to  the  man  in  the  cape  ovucoat,  not  fivt  leet 
from  where  I  sat 

Somethmg  about  Um,  from  the  moment  he  took  up 
that  position,  challenged  nqr  attention.  I  watched  him 
from  mider  my  hat-brim  as  he  looked  gmidtdfy  about 
I  did  not  move  as  he  let  hit  oovert  ^is  dwell  for  a 
moment  or  two  on  my  kNuming  figure.  I  still  watched 
hhn  as  he  bent  forward  and  listened  to  the  deep 
breathing  ol  the  man  so  dose  be^de  Un. 

Then  I  saw  a  hand  creep  om  from  hit  ddc;  Thero 
was  something  qnkk  and  reptilkMS  m  its  movements. 
I  saw  it  fed  and  pad  about  the  sleeping  man's  breast 
Then  I  saw  it  slip^  snahe^iaBe,  k  nnder  Urn  doth  of 
the  coat 

It  moved  about  there*  for  a  second  or  two^  as  though 
busily  expkning  the  recess  of  every  possible  pocket 

Then  I  saw  the  stealthy  hand  qoietly  but  quickly 
withdrawn.  As  it  came  away  it  brw^jfat  witii  k  a 
packet  that  fladied  white  in  die  kunpligfat  pialnly  a 
packet  of  papers.  This  was  thrust  httrriedly  down  hito 
the  coat  pod^r.t  of  the  newcomer  next  to  me.  There 
was  not  a  sound.    There  was  no  more  movement 

The  wide-shouldered  man  sat  tiwre  for  what  must 
have  been  a  full  minute  of  time.  Then  he  rote  quietly 
to  his  feet  and  started  as  qoietly  away. 

It  wasn't  until  then  that  the  fidl  reaBty  of  wfet  he 
had  done  came  home  to  me.    He  had  d^Mrate|y 


THE  STOLEN  WHEEL<X>DE 


V 


robbed  a  ilwplny  and  unpfotectod  nto.  H«  wit  at 
that  momnt  actoally  carrjnf  away  the  ipoilt  of  Mnt 
predetenniiiid  and  aodacioiif  theft  And  I  had  nfe 
cafanly  and  unptotertlmly  hf  and  watched  a  thief, 
a  profesiioaal  "dip^"  enact  a  crime  under  mjr  veof 
eyes,  wftfab  five  feet  of  mel 

In  three  qnkk  ttepe  i  had  croeeid  to  tiie  ile^inr 
man's  tide  and  wae  ihakhif  him.  I  etfll  kept  nqr  cyea 
on  die  tlowty  retmtinff  figure  of  the  thief  at  he  made 
his  apparently  diffident  wayt^  through  tfie  ftqtsare.  I 
had  often  heard  of  those  street  har^  known  as 
"hish-dips,*  those  professional  picfcpodcets  who  prey 
on  the  wiqr^de  inebriate  Bot  nefer  befbee  had  I 
seen  one  at  work. 

"Qnickt  Wakenpricried,wkhatepcnttihdH 
at  the  sleeper's  dionlder.    '^/ou've  been  robhedr 

The  next  move  of  that  fittir  .,\M^  A  ana  was 
an  unexpected  and  startltnf  k-.z.  { n  lead  of  being 
confronted  by  the  disputatkNis  i.:r,ir.!(iei  i^gs  of  a  half- 
wakcBid  sleeper,  as  I  expected.  I  ^-t;  suddnly  and 
firmly  caqgfat  by  the  arm  and  jeiked  bodily  into  tlMi 
scat  beside  him. 

Ton've  been  fdbbed  r  I  repeated,  as  T  felt  that  firm 
grip  hatu  me  seatwrd. 

"Shut  iq»r  said  a  cafan  and  very  wMe-awdee  voices 
quite  dose  to  nqr  ear.  I  struggled  to  tear  my  ana 
away  from  the  hand  that  still  chmg  to  it 

**Butyoo'vebeenn>ftft«fnexpcetBhited.  Ifiocieift 
Oiat  Us  own  gaie  was  already  dhmled  nerfhwE. 4  to- 
ward where  Ae  Une-dad  figure  stni  aaoved  iliiihull 
on  under  ^  arc  krnipa. 


lirtk 


II     iiiiii  niliiir  Kfi 


64    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

"How  do  you  know  thttr  be  demtnled.  I  waa 
•truck  ty  hit  i^otate  and  rather  authoritative  vofc^ 

"Why,  I  saw  it  with  my  own  ^yesk  And  there  coes 
the  man  who  did  iti"  I  tdd  hin^  pointing  northward. 

He  jerked  down  my  hand  and  twung  around  on  me 

nVatchthatmanrhesak^ateiortfiereely.  "But 
for  heaven'*  sake  kegp  sHlir 

^Vhat  does  this  mean?"  I  natoraHly  dmanded. 

He  swept  me  with  <me  quick  glance;  Yet  he  k>oked 
more  at  my  clothes.  I  fancy,  than  at  my  face.  My 
tailor  seemed  to  be  quite  satisfactory  to  hhn. 

"Who  are  your  be  asked.  I  took  ny  time  in  an- 
swermg,  for  I  was  beginnii«  to  fesctt  his  repeated 
note  of  superio.nty. 

"My  name,  if  that's  what  you  me&n.  M  twns  to  be 

Ae  uneuphonious  but  highly  wspectabie  one  of  Ker- 
foot— -Witter  Kcrfoot." 

"No,  noi"  he  said  with  quick  impatience.  "tVkai 
areyou?" 

"I'm  nothing  much,  except  a  r  iber  of  a  rather 
respectable  dub^  and  a  man  who  doesn't  sleep  overly 

His  eyes  were  still  keenly  watcUog  the  Oamfy  de- 
parting figure.    My  flippancy  seemed  to  have  been  fcst 

onhna  His  muscular  young  hand  suddenly  tightened 
on  ray  sleeve. 

•Jl^"  ^,  "^*"' ^  ^  "^  »*'" '•^  cried,  under  hi* 
broidL  "Yon  must !  I've  a  right  to  can  on  you.  as 
a  decent  atixen,  a»— " 

"Who  are  you?"  I  interrupted,  quite  myseU  by  this 


THE  STOLEN  WHEEL^ODE 


6S 


'Tm  Lieutenant  Pafaner/'  he  abKntty  admitted,  alt 
tlie  while  eying  the  moving  figure. 

"And  I've  got  to  get  that  man,  or  itH  cost  me  a 
court-martiaL  I've  j^o^  to  get  htm.  Wait  I  Sit  back 
here  without  moving.    Now  watch  iHut  he  doetf 

I  saw  the  thief  drop  into  an  empty  bendi,  stance 
down  at  his  time-pie^,  look  careles^  about,  and  then 
lean  bade  with  his  1^  croased.  NoUiing  more  hap* 
pened. 

"Wen,"  I  inquired,  "whafs  the  garnet . 

If  s  no  game,"  he  retorted,  in  his  quick  and  decisive 
tones.  **l^B  dsaana  near  a  tragedy.  But  now  I've 
found  him!  Fve  ^aced  him  I  And  thafs  the  nuui 
I'm  after!" 

"I  don't  doubt  it,"  I  languidly  admitted.  "But 
am  I  to  assume  that  iMs  little  bendi  scow  was  a  sort 
of,  wdl,  a  sort  of  carefully  studied  out  tnq>?" 

"It  was  tiie  only  way  I  coukl  clinch  the  thing,"  he 
admitted. 

"Qinch  whatr  I  asked,  consckMis  of  his  hesitation. 

"Oh,  you've  got  to  know,"  he  finally  conceded,  "now 
you've  seen  this  much!  And  I  know  you're— you're 
the  riglit  sort  I  can't  tell  you  every^iiig.  Bat  Vm 
off  tht  Comteetkitt.  She's  tiie  flagship  of  our  Atbntk 
fleet's  fbM  division,  the  flag^  of  Rear-Ackniral 
^irodder.  T  was  sent  to  confer  with  Admiral  liaidoai. 
the  oommandant  of  the  Navy  Yard.  Then  I  was  to 
conununicate  with  Rear-Admiral  KeUao',  the  si^er- 
visor  of  Naval  AuxiKaries.  It  was  in  cooneetion  wi& 
the  navy's  new  Emergency  Whed-Code.  I  cui't  ex- 
pbin  it  to  you;  there's  a  tot  of  navy-dipartiBSiit  data 


«    THE  MAN  WHO  OOULDNT  SUEEP 

Ican'tfoioKx   But  I  wu  ashore  here  in  New  York 
with  a  Uit  of  the  new  wirelcM  code  ugnala." 
"And  jroa  let  them  get  awtyr 

"Thett  wai  no  letting  about  it    They  were  stolen 
from  me,  stolen  in  some  mysterious  way  I  can't  under- 
stand.   I've  only  one  chie.    I'd  dined  at  the  PUa. 
Then  I'd  gone  to  the  ballroom  and  sat  through  the 
amateur  theatricals  for  the  French  HoapitaL    I'd  been 
carrying  the  code  forms  and  they'd  been  worrying  me. 
So  I  <s|dit  the  wheel,'  as  we  say  in  the  service    I 
mean  Fd  divided  'em  and  left  one  half  locked  up  at 
my  hotel  while  I  still  carried  the  other  half.    Each 
part,  I  knew,  wouM  be  useless  without  the  other.   How 
or  when  they  got  the  half  I  was  carrying  I  can't  tell, 
for  the  life  of  me.    I  remember  dancing  two  or  three 
times  m  the  ballroom  after  the  theatricals.    But  it 

couldn't  l»pi  been  any  of  those  women.   Theyweren't 
Ihatsert" 

•Then  who  was  itr    For  the  first  time  a  sense  of 
hU  boyishness  had  crept  over  me. 

"That's  just  it;  I  don't  know.  But  I  k^  feeling 
that  I  was  being  shadowed,  i  was  abnost  posttive  I 
was  being  trailed.  They  wookl  be  after  the  second 
half,  I  f^  So  I  mude  a  dmmsy,  and  toaf ed  about 
all  day  waiting  for  a  $%p.  I  kept  it  up  w«il  t«Mii^t 
Then,  when  I  actually  found  I  was  bik^  follow*!, 
eveiy  move  I  made,  I—" 

His  voice  tB^d  off  and  he  cai;^  at  ray  arm  again. 

"See,  he's  on  ^  move  agaml  He's  gafay,  this 
time.  And  that's  the  mm\  I  warn  yon  to  h^  me 
watch  hia,  waich  every  slep  and  trick.   And  M  liM^a 


THE  STOEEN  WHEEIXTODE 


67 


a  Moofid  man,  I'm  going  to  get  7011  to  follow  Una* 
while  I  stick  to  this  one.  It's  not  altogether  for  mjr- 
lelf,  remember;  it's  more  for  the  whole  Servicer' 

We  were  on  our  feet  by  this  time,  passing  northwaixl 
along  the  asphalted  walks  that  wound  in  and  out  be- 
tween the  trees. 

''You  meftii  this  man's  a  sort  of  agent,  a  fonigtk 
spy,  after  your  naval  secrets?"  I  asked,  as  we  watched 
the  figure  m  Uue  circle  casually  out  toward  Fifth 
Avenue. 

'That's  what  I'vvt  got  to  find  out   AndFm^ 
do  it,  if  I  have  to  follow  him  to  hell  and  badcf 
the  young  officer's  answer.    Then  he  Mddenly  drew 
up,  with  a  whispered  warning. 

"You'd  better  go  west,  towastf  Broadway.  Then 
walk  north  into  Fifth  Avenue  again,  toward  Triilaiiii'i 
comer.  I'll  swing  tq>  Madnon  Avenue  ^a  the 
side  of  hinri,  and  waflc  west  on  Twiaty-iia^ 
Don'^  speak  to  me  as  we  paaa  Wm  waieh  Ite,  every 
moment    And  if  there's  a  aaeood  naui,  follow  }Amf 

A  moment  bter  I  was  savBteringf  westward  lowai4 
the  old  Holhnan  House  comer.  As  I  apftfoadied  the 
avenue  curb  I  saw  the  unpertmted  figure  in  blue  stop 
beside  tbt  Farragut  Mootanent  on  the  northwest  f rfage 
of  Madison  Square.  I  saw  him  take  out  a  dgar,  riowly 
and  deliberaiify  strike  a  match  on  the  sloiieworic  of 
the  exedra,  and  then  as  stowly  and  deliben^ely  Ught 
yscigw. 

I  felt,  as  I  saw  it,  thi^  it  was  some  sort  of  a  signal 
This  suqHdon  grew  stronger,  when,  a  mooMitt  later, 
I  saw  a  woman  step  oat  of  a  near-by  doorwar.    Sim 


68    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

wore  a  plumed  Gainsborough  hat  and  a  cream-cotered 
gown.  Over  her  slender  young  shoulders,  I  further 
made  out,  hung  an  opera  cloak  of  delicate  lacework 

She  stood  for  a  moment  at  the  carriage  step,  as 
though  awaiting  a  car  or  taxi.  Then  she  quickly 
crossed  the  avenue  and,  turning  north,  passed  the  wait- 
ing man  in  blue.  She  passed  him  without  a  n>oken 
w<mL 

But  as  the  cream-colored  figure  drifted  nonchalanUy 
by  the  broad-shouldered  man  I  caught  a  fleeting 
glimpse  of  something  passing  between  them,  a  hint 
of  one  hand  catching  a  white  packet  from  another.  It 
was  a  hint,  and  nothing  more.    But  it  was  enough. 

My  first  impulse,  as  I  saw  that  movement,  was  to 
circle  quickly  about  and  warn  Pateier  of  what  had 
taken  place.  A  moment's  thought,  however,  showed 
me  the  danger  of  this.  And  the  young  lieutenant,  I 
could  see,  had  already  changed  his  course,  so  that  his 
path  southward  through  the  center  of  the  square 
paralleled  that  of  the  other  man  now  walking  more 
briskly  along  the  avenue  curb. 

He  had  clearly  stated  that  I  was  to  watch  any  con- 
federate. I  had  no  intention  to  quibble  over  side- 
issues.  As  I  started  northward,  indeed,  after  that 
mysterious  figure  in  the  Gainsborough  hat  and  the 
cream-colored  gown,  a  most  pleasuraUe  and  purpose- 
ful tingle  of  excitement  thrilled  up  and  down  my  back- 
bone. 

I  shadowed  her  as  guardedly  as  I  was  able,  follow- 
ing her  bkxk  by  block  as  she  hurried  up  the  empty 
thoroughfare  that  was  mow  as  quiet  and  lonely  as  a 


THE  STOLEN  WHEEI^CODE 


69 


glacial  moraine.  My  oat  fear  wa»  that  At  would 
reach  the  Waldorf,  or  some  equally  complex  beehive 
of  human  Ufe,  before  I  could  overtake  her.  Once 
there,  I  knew,  she  would  be  as  conqiktely  k>st  as  a 
needle  in  a  haystack. 

She  nuy  have  suspected  me  t^  this  time,  I  felt,  for 
twice  I  saw  her  look  back  over  her  shoulder. 

Then  I  suddenly  stq[>ped  and  ducked  into  a  door- 
way.  For  a  moment  after  I  saw  a  taxicab  come  clat- 
tering into  the  avenue  out  of  Thirty-third  Street  I  dis- 
covered that,  at  her  rq>eated  gesture,  it  was  pullmg  up 
beside  the  curb. 

I  stood  wen  bade  in  the  shadow  until  she  had 
climbed  into  the  seat,  the  door  had  slammed  shut,  and 
the  driver  had  turned  hia  vehicle  about  and  started 
northward  main.  Then  I  darted  along  the  shop  fronts, 
darted  across  the  street,  and  made  straight  for  the 
hotel  cabstand  and  a  taxi  driver  drowsily  exhaliim 
cigarette  nnoke  up  toward  iht  te{rid  midnight  skies. 
The  bin  I  thrust  into  his  hand  took  all  the  sleep  out 
of  his  body  and  aided  the  iiKense  to  the  mormng 
stars. 

njp  tiie  avenue,"  I  said  iu  I  clambered  in.  "And 
foUow  that  taxicab  two  hhda  behind  until  it  turns,  and 
then  run  up  on  it  and  wait.** 

It  turned  at  Forty-second  Street  «id  went  eastward 
to  Lexington  Avenue.  Then,  dot^og  on  its  tracks, 
it  swung  southward  agam.  We  let  it  clatter  on  weB 
ahead  of  us.  But  as  it  turmd  suddenly  westward,  at 
the  comer  of  Twenty-ditrd  Street,  we  broke  the  speed 
laws  to  draw  once  more  up  to  it.    Then,  as  we  crossed 


i 


70    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

Twenty-third  Street,  I  toW  the  driver  to  lee^  on 
•outhwaid  toward  GraraercySqiare.  F^rThid  rai^ht 
«^t  of  the  other  taxi  already  drawn  tq>  at  tlK  emb 
half-way  between  Lexkigton  and  Fourth  Aveaaet. 

A  moment  after  we  jobed  across  tlw  car  **w*n  I 
slipped  away  from  my  cab  Md  ran  back  to  the  croea- 
street  on  foot  As  I  reached  the  comer  I  cat^t  sight 
of  a  figitfe  in  a  cream-cobred  gown  cross  the  sidewalk 
and  step  quiddy  into  the  doorway  of  a  shabby  foar- 
atoned  btiikUng. 

I  had  no  time  to  study  this  buiWing.  It  nugiit  have 
bim  an  antiquated  residence  turned  into  a  chisler  of 
ar^'s  studioa,  or  a  third-rate  domicile  of  third-rate 
business  firms.  My  one  important  discovery  was  that 
the  door  opened  as  I  turned  the  knob  and  that  I  was 
able  quietly  ar.d  quickly  to  step  into  the  dark  hallway. 

I  stood  there  in  the  gloom,  listening  intently.  I 
couW  hear  the  light  and  hurried  click  of  shoe  heels 
on  the  bare  tread-boards  of  the  stairs.  I  waited  and 
listened  and  carefully  counted  these  clicks.  I  knew, 
as  I  did  so,  that  the  woman  had  climbed  to  the  top 
ioor. 

Then  I  beard  the  chink  of  metal,  the  sound  of  a  key 
thrust  into  m  lock,  and  then  the  cautious  closing  of  a 
door.  Then  I  found  myself  surrounded  by  nodiing 
bat  darkness  and  silence  again. 

Istood  there  in  deep  thought  for  a  nUnute  or  two. 
rain  I  groped  my  way  cautiously  to  the  foot  of  the 
siaira,  found  the  heavy  oW-fashioned  bahtitrade.  and 
Awly  and  silently  climbed  the  stairway. 

I  did  not  stop  until  I  found  myself  on  the  top  foor 


THE  STOLEN  WHEEIX:ODE 


71 


of  that  quiet  and  many-odored  building.  I  patued 
there,  at  a  ftandatill,  peeriaf  through  the  darkness  that 
surrooi^id  tm. 

My  seaseh  was  rewarded  by  the  discovery  of  one 
Ain  strak  of  yellow  lig^  a^ig  what  must  have  been 
the  LotfeHn  of  a  closed  door.  Just  beyond  that  door. 
I  f  ^  ray  ptn^t  was  to  cc»ae  to  an  eiuL 

I  gropad  tmr  way  to  the  wall  and  tiptoed  quietly  for- 
ward. When  I  came  to  the  door,  I  let  my  hand  dose 
noiselessly  about  the  knok  Then,  cuditoning  it  with 
a  firm  gra^,  I  turned  it  dowly.  inch  by  inch. 

The  door,  I  found,  w»  locked.  But  inside  the 
room  I  coukl  still  hear  the  occasional  dick  of  shoe 
heels  and  the  indstemiinate  noises  of  an  ocoqMmt  mov- 
i^  quietly  yet  hmriedly  about 

I  stood  there,  paczled,  depressed  by  my  first  ftding 
of  frustration.  Then  I  made  out  the  vague  oblong  of 
what  must  have  been  a  window  in  the  rear  of  a  narrow 
hall  I  tiptoed  back  to  this  wmdow,  in  the  hope  that 
it  might  lead  to  something.  I  found,  to  miy  disappoint- 
ment, that  it  was  barred  with  half-iadi  mc  rods.  And 
this  meant  a  second  defeat 

As  I  tested  these  rods  I  came  on  one  tfiat  was  not  so 
secure  as  the  others.  One  quiet  and  steady  wrench 
brought  an  end-screw  bodily  out  of  the  half-tottad 
wood.  Another  patient  twist  or  two  entirely  freed 
theotlwr  end. 

I  found  mysdf  armed  with  a  four-foot  bar,  sharp- 
ened wedge-l&e  at  each  end  for  its  screw  head.  So  I 
made  tof  way  silently  bade  to  the  pencil  of  ydbw 
Hdit  and  the  locked  door  above  it    I  stood  tlmv 


7a    THE  XAM  ym&  CX>ULDNT  SLEEP 

)>>teiiiiV  for  a  miiMte  or  two.  AH  I  could  hnr  was 
*•  "»°jff  «*  «»P  water  and  tbe  occaMocal  nittUiig 
^ap^.  SoIqiiietljrforcedtlieedgtofiiiyKidia 
■rtwew  tbe  door  and  itt  jamb,  and  a«  quietly  levend' 
the  end  eutward. 

Somettoiff  had  to  ghe  under  that  strain.    I  was 

wfuUy  afraid  that  it  would  be  the  lock  bu-  ittdi 

TWi  I  blew  would  go  with  a  snap,  and  prompt^  be- 

tray  my  movement    But  at  I  incrtaaed  the  pretttire  I 

cwdd  see  that  it  wat  Ae  iocket  .crews  that  were  dowly 
yielding  m  the  pinewood  jamb. 

I  stopped  and  wailid  for  some  ohBterating  noise  be- 
fore ventnrmg  the  bit  thrust  that  wouM  send  the 
bolt  free  of  the  loosfng  sodnt  It  came  with  the 
•udden  sound  of  steps  and  the  turning  off  of  the  run- 
ning tap.  The  door  had  been  forced  open  Md  stood 
an  inch  or  two  from  Ae  jamb  before  the  stepe  sounded 

I  waited,  with  my  heart  in  my  mouth,  wonderii« 
if  anything  had  been  overheard,  if  anything  had  been 
discovered.  It  was  only  then,  too,  that  the  enormity 
of  toy  offense  came  home  to  me.  I  was  a  house- 
breaker. I  was  playing  the  part  of  a  midntght  bur- 
glar, Iwasfadiqrasituatkwinwhkhlhadnoimme- 
^te  interest  I  was  bemg  confronted  by  perite  I 
had  no  means  of  comprehending.  But  I  intendsd  to 
get  inside  that  room,  no  matter  what  it  cost 

I  heard,  as  I  stood  there,  the  sound  of  a  drawer  be- 
mg opened  aad  closed.  Then  came  a  heef-cUck  or 
two  on  the  wooden  floor,  and  then  an  tmpi^ient  and 
quite  audible  sigh.     There  was  no  mistaking  that 


THE  STOLEN  WHEEL<X>DE 


73 


iiiii.  It  WM  •§  fft%liMl  with  Uniaiai^  at  tlm^ 
I  had  hmd  a  wonaa't  vcrfet.  And  noOiBf  was  to 
be  gaimd Jy  waitfaig.  So  I  fint  kaaed  ay  Iran  nd 
■ilmfy  agatet  the  door  ccmiar.  Thai,  tidtfa^  a  daq^ 
bnath,  I  ntpptd  quickly  and  w^atlkmfy  into  tfat 

nlfllWU  rftvtn 

I  Stood  tfaotb  dote  bvide  the  partly  ofMDcd  <ioor, 
bUnldnr  a  little  at  tba  taddm  glart  of  lifht  Then 
waa  an  appredahle  interval  before  «e  details  of  the 
scene  could  register  tiiSBisehrfls  on  my  ndnd. 

What  I  saw  was  a  hu«e  and  piaialy  fwiddied 
room.  Across  one  comer  stood  a  rolltop  dsA,  and 
from  the  top  of  this  I  cangltt  the  ffimmer  of  m  tele- 
phone transmitter.  In  the  rsar  watt  stood  two  old- 
fashioaed,  low-silled  whidowa.  Against  this  watt,  and 
between  these  two  windows*  stood  a  hlacic  iron  safe. 

Before  the  open  door  of  this  safe,  widi  her  bwk 
turned  to  me,  was  the  woman  in  the  cwaixoiBiid 

gown.    It  was  quite  ptem  that  she  was  not  yet  aware 
of  my  presence. 

She  had  dnown  her  hat  and  oqie  artle,  tud  wm  at 
the  moment  ben^ng  low  over  the  daitc  maw  of  the 
opened  sale,  readriag  baio  its  recesses  w^  one  white 
and  romided  atm.  I  stood  there  wi^hhif  her.  won- 
dering what  move  woold  be  most  efeetim  I  made 
no  sound;  of  that  I  was  certain.  Yet  some  shcth  sense 
most  have  warned  her  of  my  presence.    For  without 

rfa]mie  or  reason  she  soddsaljr  stood  emet,  and  swhir 
ing  abont  in  her  traehs,  coaf  wmtsd  me. 

Her  face,  which  had  been  a  »tde  ioshed  from  Hoop- 
ing, went  white.   Sie  stored  at  me  widtoot  spnidng. 


f 


74    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

her  eyes  wide  with  terrified  wonder.  I  eould  itt  her 
hpt  ilowly  part,  at  the  diode  of  what  she  beheld  btgm 
to  relax  the  jaw  muscles  along  the  oUve-white  check. 

I  stared  back  at  her  with  a  singularly  disengaged 
mind.  I  felt,  b  fact,  very  much  at  my  ease,  very 
much  the  master  of  the  situation.  As  an  opponent,  I 
couM  see,  she  woukl  be  more  than  mysteriouiL  She 
wouM,  m  fact,  be  extremely  interesting. 

Her  next  move,  howevw,  threw  a  new  complexion 
on  the  situation.  For  she  unexpectedly  let  her  hand 
dart  out  to  the  waM  beside  her,  just  l-hind  the  safe 
to|x  As  she  did  so,  I  couW  hear  the  snap  of  a  switch 
button;  the  next  moment  the  Hght  went  out  It  left 
the  room  in  impenetrable  darkness. 

I  stood  there,  unprepared  for  any  offensive  or  de- 
fmsive  movement.    Yet  my  enemy,  I  knew,  wm  not 
Idle.     As  I  stood  peering  unavailingly  through  the 
gtoom  I  could  hear  the  quick  thud  of  the  safe  door 
being  shut.    Then  came  the  distinct  sound  of  a  heavy 
key  being  thrust  and  turned  in  a  metal  lock-Uie  safe 
obviously,  was  of  the  old-fashioned  key-tumWer  make 
—and  then  the  noise  of  this  key  being  withdrawn 
Then  came  a  click  or  two  of  shoe  heels,  a  rustle  of 
clothing,  and  a  moment  later  the  startlingiy  sharp 
shattering  of  a  window-pane. 

The  womta  had  deliberately  kicked  the  safe  and 
flung  the  key  through  the  window!  She  had  stolen 
•  march  on  me.  She  had  defeated  me  in  the  first 
movement  of  our  encounter.  My  hesiUtion  had  been 
A  mistake,  a  costly  mistake. 

"Be  so  good  as  to  turn  on  that  light!"  I  commanded. 


THE  STOLEN  WHEEL-CODE  75 

Not  A  tomid  cum  from  the  iirlmm 

*Tttm  on  thirt  lighV  I  oriwL  *n*tim  oa  tiMt  Uflit 
orlTlfirel  IH  r»ke  every  foot  ol  tWt  room r  And 
with  that  I  gave  a  veiy  tignificaiit  doubla  dkk  to  mr 
cigarette  caie  qirhig. 

The  light  came  on  agahw  u  mdOmdy  u  it  went 
ortt.    I  diwatetibr  pocketed  my  cigaittte  cate. 

The  woman  was  itandhig  beside  the  eaf e,  at  before^ 

•todying  me  with  her  wide  and  diaBenglngeyefc    But 
all  this  time  not  a  word  had  come  from  her  Upa. 

"Sit  downr*  I  commanded,  as  anthoritativciy  and 
yet  as  offhandedly  as  I  could.  It  was  then  that  she 
•poke  for  the  first  thne; 

"Thank  you,  I  prefer  to  stand!"  wu  her  answer. 
St»  Bpokt  cahnly  and  distinctly  and  ahnost  without 
accent  Yet  I  felt  the  voice  was,  hi  some  way,  a  lor- 
e^one.  Some  vague  stibstntum  of  the  exotfe  hi  the 
carefully  ennndated  tones  made  me  surmise  that  she 
was  either  an  Austrian  or  a  Gaffidsed  Hungarian,  or 
if  not  that,  possibly  a  PbHsh  woman. 

"You  will  be  here  for  some  timci"  I  hinted. 

"And  your  she  asked.  I  noticed  an  almost  hn- 
pcrceptiMe  rfirug  of  her  softly  rounded  shoulder.  Rice 
powder,  I  hnagined.  somewhat  increased  its  general 
effect  of  dead-whiteness. 

"Ill  be  here  until  that  safe  is  opened,"  was  my  re- 
tort. 

"That  longr  she  mocked. 

"That  kMigl"  I  repeated,  exa^erated  at  her  stow 
smile. 

"Ah,  then  I  shaU  sit  down,"  stw  murmured  as  she 


nMCiocory  rbmution  tkt  chart 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


tarn 

[2.8 

■  2.5 

|M 

^^ 

^^ 

ta 

|3j2 

■  22 

1^6 

IK 
IB 

|40 

|2£ 

U 

III^H 

Sus 

1.8 


1.25  111.4 


1.6 


•1PPLIED  IM/CjE    Inc 

1653  East  Main  StrMt 

Roehntw,  Nnr  York       U609      USA 

(716)  482  -  OJOO  -  Phon* 

(716)  2m -5989 -Fan 


76    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

caught  up  the  lace  cape  and  adjusted  it  about  her 
shoulders.  "For,  believe  me,  that  will  be  a  very,  very 
long  time,  monsieur!" 

I  watched  her  carefully  as  she  crossed  the  room 
and  sank  into  a  chair.  She  drew  her  cream-colored 
train  across  her  knees  with  frugal  and  studious  delib- 
erateness. 

It  suddenly  flashed  over  me,  as  I  watched  her,  that 
her  ruse  might  have  been  a  double-barreled  one.  Ob- 
liquity such  as  hers  would  have  unseen  convolutions. 
It  was  not  the  key  to  the  safe  she  had  flung  through 
the  window!  She  would  never  have  been  so  foolish. 
It  was  a  trick,  a  subterfuge.  She  still  had  that  key 
somewhere  about  her. 

"And  now  what  must  I  do?"  she  asked  as  she  drew 
the  cloak  closer  about  her  shoulders. 

"You  can  hand  me  over  the  key  to  that  safe,"  was 
my  answer. 

She  could  actually  afford  to  laugh  a  little. 
"That  is  quite  impossiWe !" 
"I  want  that  key!"  I  insisted. 
"Pardon,  but  is  this  not— dangerous  ?"  she  mildly 
inquired.    "Is  it  not  so,  to  break  into  houses  at  mid- 
night, and  rob  women  ?" 
It  was  my  turn  to  laugh. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  I  cahnly  assured  her.  "And  you 
can  judge  if  I'm  frightened  or  not.  There's  sometliing- 
much  more  dangerous  than  that!" 

She  was  again  studying  me  with  her  puzzled  and 
ever-narrowing  eyes. 
"Which  means?"  she  prompted. 


THE  STOLEN  WHEEIXTODE 


n 


"Wdl,  for  example,  the  theft  of  government  naval 
codes,  among  other  things." 

"You  are  very,  vety  drunk,"  she  retorted  with  her 
quieUy  scoffing  smile.  "Or  you  are  insane,  quite  in- 
sane. May  I  not  lock  my  jewels  in  my  own  safe  ?  Ah, 
I  begin  to  see—this  is  a  trick,  that  you  may  steal 
from  meT 

"Then  why  not  send  for  the  poUce?"  I  challenged, 
pointing  toward  the  telephone. 

A  look  of  guile  crept  into  her  studious  eyes. 

"You  will  permit  that?"  she  asked. 

"I  invite  it,"  was  my  answer. 

"Then  I  shaU  caU  for  help." 

"Only  from  the  police." 

"Yes;  I  shaU  call  for  help^"  she  repeated,  crossing 
to  the  telephone 

I  leaned  forward  as  she  stood  in  front  of  it    I  - 
caught  her  bare  arm  in  my  left  hand,  just  below  the 
elbow.    As  I  drew  it  backward  it  brought  her  body 

against  mine,  pinning  her  other  arm  down  ck>se  against 
my  side. 

The  thing  was  repugnant  to  me,  but  it  was  neces- 
saty.  As  I  pinioned  her  there,  writhing  and  panting', 
I  deliberately  thrust  my  right  hand  into  the  open  bosom 
of  her  gown:  I  was  dinUy  oonsdoos  of  a  faint  aura 
of  perfume,  of  a  sense  of  warmth  behind  the  soft  and 
lace-fringed  conagt.  But  it  was  ^  key  itself  tfiat 
redeemed  the  rude  assault  and  brought  a  gasp  of  re- 
lief to  my  lips — the  huge  brass  key,  as  fa%  at  aa  ^g 
beater. 

"Ldckef  I  heard  gasped  into  my  ear. 


78    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 


{ 


The  woman  staggered  to  a  chair,  white  to  the  lips; 
and  for  a  moment  or  two  I  thought  she  was  going  to 
faint 

"Oh,  you  dog!"  she  gasped,  as  she  sat  there  panting 
and  staring  at  me  with  blazing  eyes.    "Cochon!  Cur!" 

But  I  paid  little  heed  to  her,  for  the  wine  of  victory 
was  already  coursing  and  tingling  through  my  veins. 

"You  know,  you  can  still  call  the  police,"  I  told 
her  as  I  faced  the  heavy  black  door  of  the  safe.  One 
turn  of  the  wrist,  I  knew,  would  bring  me  face  to 
face  with  my  jM-ize. 

A  sudden  movement  from  the  woman,  as  I  stooped 
over  the  safe  door,  brought  me  round  in  a  flash.  She 
was  on  her  feet  and  half-way  across  the  room  before 
I  could  intercq>t  her.  And  I  was  not  any  too  gentle, 
I'm  afraid,  for  the  excitement  of  the  thing  had  gone 
to  txty  head. 

That  earlier  assault  at  my  hands  seemed  to  have 
intimidated  her.  I  could  see  actual  terror  in  her  eyes 
as  I  forced  her  back  against  the  wall.  She  must  have 
realized  her  helplessness.  She  stared  up  into  my  face, 
bewildered,  desperate.  There  was  something  supple 
and  panther-like  about  her,  something  alluring  and  yet 
disturbing.  I  could  sec  what  an  effective  weapon  that 
sheer  physical  beauty  of  hers  might  be,  once  its  tiger- 
ish menace  had  been  fully  sheathed. 

"Wait!"  she  cried,  catching  at  my  arm.  "If  there 
is  anything  you  want  I  will  give  it  to  you." 

"There  are  several  things  I  want,"  was  rssf  uncom- 
promising answer. 


THE  STOLEN  WHEEL<:0M; 


79 


"But  why  should  you  want  them?"  she  asked,  still 
dinging  to  my  arm. 

"It's  my  duty  to  take  them,"  I  replied,  unconscious 
of  any  mendacity.  "That's  what  I'm  sent  here  for! 
That's  why  I've  watched  the  man  who  gave  you  the 
packet!" 

"What  packet?" 

"The  padcet  you  took  in  Madison  Square  an  hour 
ago;  the  packet  you  tocked  in  this  safe!  And  if  you 
like  111  tdl  you  just  what  that  packet  is!" 

"This  is  some  mistake,  some  very  sad  mistake,"  she 
had  the  effrontery  to  declare.  Her  arm  still  dung  to 
me.  Her  face  was  very  dose  to  mine  as  she  went 
on.  "I  can  explain  everything,  if  you  will  only  give 
me  the  time — everything!  I  can  show  you  where  you 
are  wrong,  and  how  you  may  suffer  through  a  mistake 
like  this!" 

"We  can  talk  all  that  over  later,"  I  prtmiptly  told 
her,  for  I  was  beginning  to  suspect  that  her  object  now 
was  merdy  to  kill  time,  to  keep  me  there,  in  the  hope 
of  some  chance  discovery.  I  peered  about  the  room, 
wcmdering  what  would  be  the  q^iickest  way  out  of 
my  dilemma. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  she  adced  as  she 
watched  me  shove  a  diair  over  against  the  wall,  di- 
rectly beside  the  safe. 

"I'm  going  to  seat  you  very  comlortaMy  in  this 
very  ccmifortaUe  diair,"  I  informed  her,  "and  in  this 
equally  comfortable  comer  directly  bdiind  the  safe 
door.    And  at  the  first  tridc  or  aign  of  trotdble,  Fm 


8o    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

afraid  Fm  going  to  make  a  hole  right  through  one  of 
those  nice  white  shoulders  of  yours  !'* 

She  sat  down  without  bei^  forced  into  the  chair. 
Her  alert  and  ever-moving  eyes  blazed  luminously 
from  her  dead-white  face.  I  knew,  as  I  thrust  the  huge 
key  in  the  safe  lock  and  turned  it  bock  that  she  would 
have  to  be  watched,  and  watched  every  moment  of  the 
time. 

I  had  aheady  counted  on  the  safe  door,  as  it  swung 
back,  making  a  barrier  across  the  comer  in  whiA  she 
sat  This  I  found  to  be  the  case.  I  took  a  second  pre- 
caution, however,  by  shoving  a  tilted  chair-back  firmly 
in  under  the  edge  of  the  safe  tock. 

I  knew,  as  I  stooped  before  the  open  strong  box. 
that  she  could  make  no  sudden  move  without  toy  be- 
ing conscious  of  it.  I  also  knew  that  time  was  pre- 
cious. So  I  reached  into  the  depths  of  the  ahnost 
empty  safe  and  lifted  out  a  number  of  papen  neatly 
heW  together  by  a  rubber  band. 

These  I  placed  on  the  safe  tope  Then  I  snapped  off 
the  band  and  examined  the  first  doci'ment  On  the 
back  of  it,  neatly  inscribed  in  French,  was  the  emi- 
nently satisfactory  legend :  "Plans  and  Specifications ; 
Bs.  Lake  Torpedo  Company,  Bridgeport."  The  next 
packet  was  a  blue  print  of  war  projectiles,  and  on  the 
back  of  it  was  written:  "Model  Tradngs,  through 
Jenner,  from  the  Bliss  fk  Company  Works— 18— Self- 
Projectors." 

The  third  packet  carried  no  inscription.  But  as 
I  opened  it  I  saw  at  a  glance  what  it  was.  I  knew 
in  a  moment  that  I  held  before  me  the  governmental 


THE  STOLEN  WHEEL-CODE 


8i 


mcel-code  of  wireleM  signals  in  active  service.  It 
was  the  code  that  had  been  stden  from  Uetrtenant 
Pabner.  The  fourth  and  last  p&per,  I  found  "^vas 
plainly  the  dummy  vMdi  had  been  taken  from  ^ 
.tame  oflScer  that  night  in  Madison  Square.  The  case 
was  complete.   The  chase  was  over  and  d<»e. 

'Tn  the  cash  drawer,  on  the  right,  you  will  find 
more/'  quietly  remarked  the  young  woman  watdiing 
me  f rcmi  the  side  of  the  safe. 

*'It's  locked,"  I  said,  as  I  tugged  at  the  drawer  knoh, 
I  stood  erect  at  her  sudden  laugh. 

**Why  not  take  everything?**  At  asked,  with  her 
scoffing  smile. 

And  I  saw  no  reasim  why  I  riiouldn't;  though  a 
suspicion  crossed  n^  mind  that  this  might  be  still 
anoHher  ruse  to  kiH  time.  If  sudi  it  was,  I  faced  it 
at  once,  for  I  sent  my  boot  heel  in'onq>tly  in  against 
the  wooden  cash  drawer,  smashing  it  at  one  blow. 

She  had  been  mistaken,  or  had  ddiberatdy  lied,  for 
the  drawer  was  emp^.  And  I  told  her  so,  with  con- 
siderable heat. 

"Ah,  we  all  make  mistakes,  I  think,"  she  murmured 
with  her  enigmatic  shrug. 

"What  I  want  to  know,"  I  said  as  I  banded  the 
four  papers  together  and  thrust  them  down  in  my 
pocket,  "is  just  how  you  got  that  first  code  from  nqr 
young  friend  the  lieutenant?" 

She  smiled  again,  a  little  wearily,  as  I  swui^  tiie 
safe  door  shut  and  locked  it.  She  did  not  rise  from 
the  chair.  But  as  I  stood  confronting  Iwr,  something 
in  n^  attitude,  apparently,  strode  her  as  distmctly 


B2    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

humoroiis.  For  she  broke  into  a  wdden  and  decpw 
fipple  of  laughter.  There  was.  however,  somethins 
icy  «Kl  filling  kit  Her  eyes  now  seemed  more 
/eiled.  They  had  lost  their  earUer  look  of  terror.  Her 
face  seemed  to  have  relaxed  into  softer  contours. 

"Would  you  like  to  know?"  she  said.  Ufting  her 
face  and  looking  with  that  older,  half-mocking  glance 
mto  my  own.    She  was  speaking  slowly  and  ddih. 
erately.  and  I  could  see  the  slight  shrug  she  gave  to 
one  panther-like  shoulder.    "Would  /  be  so  out  of 
place  m  a  baUroom?    Ah,  have  not  more  things  than 
hearts  been  lost  when  a  man  dances  with  a  woman?" 
'e— you  mean  you  stole  it,  at  the  Plaza?" 
"i>iOt  at  all,  monsieur!"  she  murmured  languidly 
bade.    Then  she  drew  a  deeper  breath,  and  sat  more 
rigid  m  her  straight-back  chair. 

Something  about  her  face,  at  that  moment,  puzzled 
me.  It  seemed  to  hold  som-  latent  note  of  confidence. 
The  last  trace  of  fear  had  fled  from  it  There  was 
something  strangely  lik.  ,  ,. .  h,  muffled  triumph, 
m  It  '^ 

An  arrow  of  appreheiision  shot  through  me,  as  I 
stooped  peering  into  her  shadowy  eyes.  It  went 
Arough  my  entire  body,  sharp  as  an  dectric  shodc. 
It  brought  me  wheeling  suddenly  about  with  my  back 
to  her  and  my  face  to  the  open  room. 

Then  I  understood.  I  saw  through  it  all.  in  one 
tinghng  second.  For  there,  faring  me.  stood  the  figure 
of  a  man  in  navy  blue.  It  was  the  same  figure  that 
I  had  followed  through  the  square. 

But  now  there  was  nothing  secretive  or  drcuitous 


THE  STOLEN  WHEEL<X>DE 


S3 


about  hit  atdtude.  It  was  quite  the  other  way;  for  m 
he  stood  there  he  held  u  bhie4)arreled  revolver  in  hit 
hand.  And  I  cculd  tee,  only  too  plainly,  that  it  wat 
leveled  directly  at  me.  The  woman't  ruse  had  worked. 
I  had  watted  too  much  time.  The  confederate  for 
whom  the  wat  plainly  waiting  had  come  to  her  rescue. 

The  man  took  three  or  four  stept  farther  into  the 
room.  Hit  revolver  wat  ttill  covering  me.  I  heard  a 
little  gatp  from  the  woman  as  the  rose  to  her  iotL 
I  took  it  for  a  ga^  of  astonishment 

"You  are  going  to  kiU  him?"  she  cried  in  German. 

"Haven't  I  got  to?"  asked  back  the  man.  Ketpoke 
in  English  and  without  an  accent  "Don't  you  under- 
stand he's  a  safe^eakerf  He's  broken  into  thit 
house?  So!  He's  caught  in  the  act—he'a  thot  in  telf- 
defense!" 

I  watched  the  gun  barrel  The  man's  cahn  words 
seemed  to  horrify  the  woman  at  my  side.  But  there 
was  not  a  trace  of  pity  in  her  voice  as  she  sp(^  again. 

"Wait!"  she  cried. 

"Why  ?"  asked  the  man  with  Ae  gun. 

"He  has  everything—the  code»  the  plans,  every- 
thing." 

"Get  them!"  commanded  the  man. 

"But  he's  armed,"  she  explained. 

A  sneer  crossed  the  other's  impassive  face. 

"What  if  he  is?    Take  his  gun;  take  everything!" 

The  woman  stepped  dose  to  where  I  stood.  Again 
I  came  within  the  radius  of  her  perfumes.  I  couh! 
even  fed  her  breath  on  my  face.  Her  movements 
were  more  than  ever  panther-like  at  the  went  tiirougfa 


84    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

my  pockets,  one  by  one.  Yet  her  flashing  and  dex- 
trous hands  found  no  revolyer,  for  the  simple  reason 
thw-e  was  none  to  find.   This  puzzled  and  worried  her. 

"Huny  upl"  commanded  the  man  covering  me. 

She  stepped  bade  and  to  one  side,  with  the  packet 
in  her  hand. 

"Now  close  the  windows!"  ordered  th«  man. 

My  heart  went  down  in  my  boots  as  I  heard  the  thud 
of  that  second  closed  window.  There  was  going  to 
be  no  waste  of  time. 

I  thought  of  catching  the  woman  and  hdding  her 
shield-like  before  me.  I  thought  of  the  telephone;  the 
light-switch ;  the  window.  But  they  all  seemed  hopeless. 

The  woman  turned  away,  holding  her  hands  over 
her  ears.  The  incongruous  thought  Bashed  tlirough 
me  that  two  hours  before  I  had  called  the  city  flat  and 
stale;  and  here,  within  a  rifle  shot  of  my  own  door,  I 
was  standing  face  to  face  with  death  itself ! 

"Look  here,"  I  cried,  much  as  I  hated  to,  "what  do 
you  get  out  of  this?** 

"Your  said  the  man. 

"And  what  good  will  that  do?*' 

"It'll  pfx>bably  shut  your  mouth,  for  one  thing!'* 

"But  there  are  other  mouths,'*  I  cried.  "And  I'm 
afraid  they'll  have  a  great  deal  to  say." 

"I'm  ready  for  them  T'  was  his  answer. 

I  ctald  see  his  arm  raise  a  little,  and  straighten  out 
as  it  raised.  The  gun  barrel  was  nothing  1^  ^t  a  Mack 
"O"  at  the  end  of  my  fine  of  vision.  I  fdt  my  heart 
stop,  for  I  surmised  what  the  movement  meant 


THE  STOLEN  WHEEL<X>DE 


Then  I  kogliMl  oatriglit,  aloud,  aad  alloctliitr  Ib^ 
ishly  and  hytteriodly. 

The  ttrain  had  been  too  much  for  me,  aik  ^  emp 
bf  the  rdetw  had  come  too  auddenly,  too  uuexpict- 
edljr.  I  could  see  the  man  with  the  gun  faltfik  per- 
plexedly, for  a  second  or  two^  and  then  I  could  see  the 
tightening  of  his  thin4ipped  mouth.  But  that  was  not 
all  Ihadseen. 

For  through  the  half-dosed  door  I  had  caught  right 
of  the  slowly  raised  iron  rod,  the  very  rod  I  had 
wrenched  from  the  outer  hall  window.  I  had  seen  its 
descent  at  the  moment  I  realiied  the  finality  in  those 
quickly  tightenuig  lips. 

It  strudc  the  arm  on  its  downward  sweep.  But  it 
was  not  in  time  to  stop  the  discharge  of  the  revolver. 
The  report  thundered  through  tiie  room  as  the  bullet 
ripped  and  spUntered  into  the  pine  of  the  floor.  At 
the  same  moment  the  discharged  firearm  went  spinning 
across  the  room,  and  as  die  man  who  held  tt  went  down 
with  the  blow,  young  Palmer  himsdf  swuag  toward 
me  through  the  drifting  smoke 

As  he  did  so,  I  turned  to  the  woman  w  li  her 
hands  stiU  pressed  to  her  ears.  With  one  fmm  jerk 
I  tore  the  rubber-banded  padcet  of  papers  ^^iii  tm 
dutdi. 

"But  the  code?"  gasped  Pahner,  as  he  tuggec  % 
at  the  safe  door. 

I  did  not  answer  him,  for  a  sudden  movement  f  ^ra 
the  woman  arrested  my  attention.  She  had  stogj  ^ 
and  caught  up  the  fallen  rev^er.    The  man  in  ^ 


86    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

roQiiif  over  on  bit  hip,  wat  dimwiag  a  Moood  fiA 
from  hit  podcgfc 

''QtticicricalledtoPiliiiaraal  twimr  him  lijr  the 
MXWfit  and  wtnt  him  cat^^uMi^f  oat  throimh  tho  tmoko 
to  the  open  door.    "Qiticlt— and  dude  lowT 

The  diota  came  tofetfaer  at  we  ttunibled  againtt  the 
ttatrhead. 

"Qiudcf  I  rqieated,  at  I  pulled  hLa  after  me. 

"But  the  code?"  he  cried. 

Tve  got  it!"  I  called  out  to  him  at  we  went  pant- 
inf  and  phmging  down  throus^  that  three-i^ered  wdl 
of  daricnett  to  the  street  and  liberty.  'Tve  got  it— > 
I've  got  evetythmg!" 


;ui 


the 
)lce 


ea 


CHAPTER  IV 

THS  OraV  OOOB 

4iO  HAIL  I  ddl  tlM  ctf,  firr  aiked  the  soHdtout. 

0  eyed  Bemor.  :  x/sr^jr  mfediiiif  me  at  I  mede 
mdy  lor  the  ttitr. 

'^o,"  was ngr ^.i  joOy  delMhed retort,  "I  mtcnd 
to  wane." 

"Latreifle  was  addng,  tk,ii  yon  would  care  to  have 
the  car  laid  iipk'' 

'Hie  ngnificance  of  that  btaad  tnggeatioii  did  not 
escape  me  And  it  did  not  add  to  my  tereoitjr  of  mfaid. 

"Just  what  business  it  that  of  Latieille^ir  I  de- 
manded, with  a  prickle  of  irritatioa.  My  patient-eyed 
old  butler  averted  his  gfanoe,  with  a  ii|^  lAikh  he 
didn't  seem  quite  able  to  controL 

'  ttd  at  the  end  of  the  month,"  I  went  on,  1  in- 
ten  to  disdiarge  that  maa  Vm  tired  of  hit  inso- 
lences." 

1  es»  att    Benson  softly  yet  fervently  a(reed* 

My  nerves  were  on  tdgt,  I  knew,  but  I  wasn't  look- 
ing for  sympathy  from  my  hired  hdpi  And  when  I 
swung  tiie  door  drat  bdihid  me  I  am  a&ikl  it  waa  § 
movement  far  from  noiseless. 

1  waa  glad  to  get  out  hito  the  open,  glad  to 
away  from  old  Benson's  commiserative  ores,  and  have 
space  about  m^  and  cool  air  to  breathe^  and  uncotinted 
miles  of  pavement  to  weary  toy  legs  on. 

I  noticed,  as  I  turned  into  fifth  Avcmie^  that  the 

8r 


88    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


H 


moving  finger  of  light  on  the  Metropolitan  dock-dial 
pointed  to  an  hour  past  midnight.  So  I  veered  about 
that  delta  of  idleness,  where  the  noontide  turbulence  of 
Broadway  empties  its  driftwood  into  the  quietness  of 
the  square,  and  pursued  my  way  up  the  avenue. 

No  one  can  claim  to  know  New  York  who  does  not 
know  its  avenues  in  those  mystical  small  hours  that  fall 
between  the  revolving  street-sweeper  and  the  robin- 
call  of  the  first  morning  paper.    Fifth  Avenue,  above 
all  her  sisters,  then  lies  as  though  tranquillized  by 
Death,  as  calm  as  the  Coliseum  under  its  Italian  mocrn- 
%ht.    She  seems,  under  the  stars,  both  medievalized 
and  spiritualized.     She  speaks  then  in  an  intimate 
whisper  foreign  to  her  by  day,  veiling  her  earthlicr 
loquacity  in  a  dreaming  wonder,  softening  and  sweet- 
ening like  a  woman  awaiting  her  k>vcr.    The  great 
steel  shafts  enclosed  in  their  white  marble  become  tur- 
rets crowned  with  mystery.    And  the  street-floor  it- 
self, as  clean  and  polished  as  a  ballroom,  seems  to 
undulate  off  into  outer  kingdoms  of  romance.    An 
occasional  lonely  motor-car,  dipping  up  its  gentle 
slopes  like  a  ship  treading  a  narrow  sea-lane  buoyed 
with  pearls  as  huge  as  pumpkins^  only  accentuates  the 
midnight  solitude. 

So  up  this  dustless  and  odorless  and  transmuted 
avenue  I  wandered,  as  passively  as  a  policeman  on  his 
beat,  asking  of  the  quietness  when  and  how  I  might 
capture  that  crown  of  weariness  known  as  sleep. 

I  wandered  on,  mocked  at  by  a  thousand  drawn 
blinds,  teiunted  b/  a  thousand  somnolently  closed  doors. 
I  felt,  in  that  city  of  rest,  as  homeless  as  a  prairie 


THE  OPEN  DOOR 


89 


wolf.  The  very  smugness  of  those  vefled  and  self- 
satisfied  house-frcmts  began  to  get  on  n^  nerves.  The 
very  taciturnity  of  the  great  silent  hostelries  irritated 
me;  everything  about  them  seemed  so  eloquent  of  an 
interregnum  of  rest,  of  relaxed  tension,  of  invisible 
reservoirs  of  life  being  softly  and  secretly  filled. 

Yet  as  I  came  to  the  open  width  of  the  Plaza,  and 
saw  the  wooded  gloom  of  Central  Park  before  me,  I 
experienced  an  even  stronger  feeling  of  disquiet.  Tliere 
seemed  something  repugnant  in  its  autumnal  solitudes. 
That  vague  agoraphobia  peculiar  to  the  neurasthenic 
made  me  long  for  the  contiguity  of  my  own  kind,  how- 
ever unconscious  of  me  and  my  wandering  they  might 
remain.  I  found  myself,  ahnost  without  thought,  veer- 
ing ofif  eastward  into  one  of  the  city's  side-streets. 

Yet  along  this  lateral  valley  of  quietness  I  wandered 
as  disccmsolately  as  before.  What  impressed  me  now 
was  the  monotony  of  the  house-fronts  which  shoul- 
dered together,  block  by  block.  Each  front  seemed  of 
the  same  Indiana  limestone,  of  the  same  dull  gray,  as 
though.  Indeed,  tfie  whole  district  were  a  quarry  check- 
er-boarded by  eroding  cross-currents  out  of  the  self- 
same rock.  Each  tier  of  windows  seemed  backed  by 
the  same  blinds,  each  street-step  barricaded  by  the  same 
door.  I  stopped  and  looked  up,  wondering  if  behind 
those  neutral-tinted  walls  and  blinds  were  lives  as  bald 
and  monotonous  as  the  materials  that  screened  them. 
I  wondered  if  an  environment  so  without  distinction 
would  not  actually  evolve  a  type  equally  destitute  of 
individuality. 

I  turned  where  I  stood,  and  was  about  to  pass  dif- 


V- 

3,; 
I 


90    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

£dently  on,  when  one  of  the  most  unexpected  things 
that  can  come  to  a  man  at  midnight  happened  to  me. 

Out  of  a  clear  sky,  without  a  note  or  movement  of 
warning,  there  suddenly  fell  at  my  feet  a  heavy  bundle. 

Where  it  came  from  I  had  no  means  of  telling.  The 
house  above  me  was  as  silent  and  dark  as  a  tomb. 
The  street  was  as  empty  as  a  church.  Had  the  thing 
been  a  meteor  out  of  a  star-lit  sky,  or  a  wildcat  leap- 
ing from  a  tree-branch,  it  could  not  have  startled  me 
more. 

I  stood  looking  at  it,  in  wonder,  as  it  lay  beside  the 
very  area-railing  on  which  my  hand  had  rested.  Then 
I  stepped  back  and  leaned  in  over  this  lailmg,  more 
clearly  to  inspect  the  mystery.  Whatever  it  was,  it 
had  fallen  with  amazingly  little  noise.  There  was'no 
open  window  to  explain  its  source.  There  had  been  no 
wind  to  blow  it  from  an  upper-story  sill  There  was 
no  movement  to  show  that  its  loss  had  been  a  thing 
of  ponderable  import.  Yet  there  it  lay,  a  mystery 
which  only  the  deep  hours  of  the  night,  when  the 
more  solemnly  imaginative  faculties  come  into  play, 
could  keep  from  being  ridiculous. 

I  stood  there  for  several  minutes  blinking  down  at 
it,  as  though  it  were  a  furred  beast  skulking  in  a  cor- 
ner. Then  I  essayed  a  movement  which,  if  not  above 
the  commonplace,  was  equally  related  to  common  sense. 
I  stepped  in  through  the  railing  and  picked  up  the 
parcel  I  turned  it  over  several  times.  Then  I  sat 
down  on  the  stone  steps  and  deliberately  untied  the 
heavy  cord  that  baled  it  together. 

T  now  saw  why  I  had  thought  of  that  faUing  bundle 


THE  OPEN  EKDOR 


91 


as  an  animal's  leap.  It  was  completely  wrapped 
in  what  I  took  to  be  a  Russian-squirrel  motor-coat 
The  tightly  tied  fur  had  padded  the  par&l's  fall. 

Enclosed  iri  that  silk-lined  garment  I  found  a  small- 
er bundle,  swathed  about  with  several  lengths  of  what 
seemed  to  be  Irish  point  lace.  Inside  this  again  were 
other  fragments  of  lacework.  Through  these  I  thrust 
my  exploring  fingers  with  all  the  alert  curiosity  of 
a  child  investigating  a  Christmas-tree  cornucopia. 

There,  in  the  heart  of  the  parcel,  I  found  a  collection 
which  rather  startled  me.  The  first  thing  I  examined 
was  a  chamois  bag  filled  with  women's  rings,  a  dozen 
or  more  of  them,  of  all  kinds.  I  next  drew  out  a 
Florentine  repoussi  hand-bag  set  with  turquoises  and 
seed-pearls,  and  then  a  moonstone  necklace,  plainly  of 
antique  Roman  workmanship.  Next  came  a  black  and 
white  Egyptian  scarab,  and  then,  of  all  things,  a  snuff- 
box. It  was  oval  and  of  gold,  enameled  en  plein  with 
a  pastoral  scene  swarming  with  plump  |Mnk  Cupids. 
Even  in  that  uncertain  light  it  required  no  second 
glance  to  assure  me  that  I  was  looking  down  at  a  rare 
and  beautiful  specimen  of  Louis  XV  jeweler's  art. 
Then  came  a  small  photograph  in  an  oval  gold  frame. 
The  remainder  of  the  strange  collection  was  made  up 
of  odds  and  ends  of  jewelry  and  a  leather-covered 
traveling-clock  stamped  with  gilt  initials. 

I  did  not  take  the  time  to  took  more  closely  over 
this  odd  assortment  of  valuables,  for  it  now  seemed 
clear  that  I  had  stumbled  on  something  as  disturbing 
as  it  was  unexpected.  The  only  explanation  of  w  otfi- 
eninse  inexj^icaUe  situation  was  that  a  house-oreaker 


92    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 


'i 


■:  i- 


t 


was  busily  operating  somewhere  behind  the  gray-stone 
wall  which  I  faced. 

The  house  behind  that  wall  seemed  to  take  on  no 
new  color  at  this  dis  overy.    Its  inherent  sobriety,  its 
very  rectangularity  of  outline,  appeared  a  contradiction 
of  any  claim  that  it  might  be  harboring  a  figure  either 
picturesque  or  picaresque.     It  was  no  old  n^ansion 
stained  with  time,  dark  with  m<anories  and  tears.    It 
carried  no  atmosphere  of  romance,  no  suggistion  of 
old  and  great  adventures,  of  stately  ways  and  noble 
idlers,  of  intrigues  and  unremembered  loves  and  hates, 
of  silence  and  gloom  touched  with  the  deeper  eloquence 
of  unrecorded  history.    It  was  nothing  more  than  a 
new  and  narrow  and  extremely  modem  house,  in  the 
very  heart  of  a  modem  New  York,  simple  in  line  and  - 
as  obvious  in  architecture  as  the  warehouses  along  an 
old-world  water-front,  as  bare  of  heart  as  it  was  bald 
of  face,  a  symbol  of  shrill  materialities,  of  the  day 
of  utility.    It  could  no  more  have  been  a  harbor  for 
romance,  I  told  myself,  than  the  stone  curb  in  front 
of  it  could  be  translated  into  a  mountain-precipice 
threaded  with  brigand-paths. 

Yet  I  went  slowly  up  those  unwelcoming  stone  steps 
with  the  bundle  under  my  arm.  The  thief  at  work  in- 
side the  house,  I  assumed,  had  simply  tied  the  heavier 
part  of  his  loot  together  and  dropped  it  from  a  quietly 
opened  window,  to  be  gathered  as  quickly  up,  once  he 
had  effected  his  escape  to  the  street.  The  sudden  after- 
thought that  it  might  have  .been  dropped  for  a  con- 
federate caused  me  to  look  carefully  eastward  and 
then  as  carefully  westward.    But  not  a  sign  of  life 


THE  OPEN  DOOR 


93 


met  my  gaze.  My  figure  standing  puzzled  before  that 
unknown  door  was  the  only  figure  in  the  street. 

Heaven  only  knows  what  prompted  me  to  reach  out 
and  try  that  door.  It  was,  I  suppose,  little  more  than 
the  habit  of  a  lifetime,  the  almost  unconscious  habit 
of  turning  a  knob  when  one  finds  oneself  confronted 
by  a  door  that  is  closed.  The  thing  that  sent  a  little 
thrill  of  excite  .^ent  through  my  body  was  that  the 
knob  ttimed  in  my  hand,  that  the  door  itself  stood 
unlocked. 

!  stooped  down  and  examined  this  lode  as  best  I 
could  in  the  uncertain  light  I  even  ran  a  caressing 
finger  along  the  edge  of  the  doer.  There  was  no  evi- 
dence that  it  had  been  jimmied  open,  just  as  there  was 
no^iag  to  show  that  the  lock  itself  did  not  stand  in- 
tact and  uninjured.  A  second  test  of  the  !mob,  how- 
ever, showed  me  that  the  door  was  unmistakably  open. 

My  obvious  course,  at  such  a  time,  would  have  been 
to  wait  for  a  patrolman  or  to  slip  quietly  away  and 
send  word  in  to  police  headquarters.  But,  as  I  have 
already  said,  no  man  is  wholly  sane  after  nudnight 
Subliminal  faculties,  ancestral  perversions,  dormant 
and  wayward  tendencies,  all  come  to  the  surtace,  emerg- 
ing like  rats  about  a  sleejung  mansion.  And  crowning 
these,  again,  was  my  own  neurasthenic  craving  for 
activity,  my  hunger  r  the  narcotizing  influence  of 
excitement 

And  it  has  its  zest  of  novelty,  this  stepping  into  an 
unknown  and  unlighted  house  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  That  novelty  takes  on  a  razor-edge  when 
you  have  fairly  good  evidence  that  some  one  who  has 


U' 


i 


94    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

no  business  there  has  already  preceded  you  into  that 
house. 

So  a^  I  stepped  inside  and  quietly  closed  the  door 
after  me,  I  moved  forward  with  the  utmost  care.  Some 
precautionary  sixth  sense  told  me  the  place  was  not 
unoccupied.  Yet  the  daricness  that  surrounded  me 
was  absolute.  Not  a  sound  or  movement  came  to  my 
cars  as  I  stood  there  listening,  minute  after  minute. 
So  I  crept  deeper  into  the  gloom. 

My  knowledge  of  that  stereotyped  class  of  residence 
provided  me  with  a  very  fair  idea  of  where  the  stair- 
way ought  to  stand.  Yet  it  took  much  prodding  and 
groping  and  pawing  about  before  I  came  to  it  One 
flicker  of  a  match,  I  knew,  would  have  revealed  the 
whole  thing  to  me.  But  tc  strike  a  light,  under  the 
circumstances,  would  be  both  foolish  and  dangerous. 
No  house  dog,  I  felt,  would  interrupt  my  progress; 
th';  mere  remembrance  of  the  intruder  above  me  set  my 
mind  at  rest  on  this  point 

I  came  to  a  stop  at  the  head  of  the  first  stairway, 
puzzled  by  Jie  completeness  of  the  quiet  which  encont- 
passed  me.  I  directed  my  attention  to  each  quarter 
of  the  compass,  point  by  point 

But  I  might  have  been  locked  and  sealed  in  a  as- 
tern, so  complete  was  the  silence,  so  opaque  was  the 
blackness.  Yet  I  felt  that  nothmg  was  to  be  gained 
by  staying  where  I  was. 

So  I  groped  and  shuffled  my  way  onward,  rounding 
the  banister  and  advancing  step  by  step  up  the  second 
stairway.  This.  I  noticed,  was  both  narrower  and 
steeper  than  the  first     I  was  also  not  unconscious 


THE  OPEN  DOOR 


^ 


of  the  fact  that  it  was  leading  me  into  a  zone  of 
greater  danger,  for  the  floor  I  was  approaching,  I 
knew,  would  be  the  sleeping  floor. 

I  was  half-way  up  the  stairway  when  something 
undefined  brought  me  to  a  sudden  stop.  Some  ..oo 
tumal  adeptness  of  instinct  warned  me  of  an  imminent 
presence,  of  a  menace  that  had  not  yet  disclosed  itself. 

Once  more  I  came  to  a  stop,  straining  my  eyes 
thiouj^  the  darluiess.  Nothing  whatever  was  to  be 
seen.  Along  the  floor  of  the  hallway  just  above  my 
head,  however,  passed  a  small  but  unmistakable  sound. 
It  was  the  soft  frourfrou  of  a  skirt,  a  skirt  of  silk  r/ 
satin,  faintly  rustling  as  a  woman  walked  the  full 
length  of  the  hall.  I  had  just  made  a  mental  raster 
of  the  deduction  that  this  woman  was  dressed  in  street- 
clothes,  and  was,  accordingly,  an  intruder  from  out- 
side, rather  than  a  sleeper  suddenly  awakened,  when 
a  vague  suffusion  of  light  filled  the  space  above  me 
and  was  as  quickly  quenched  again. 

I  knew  the  moment  I  heard  the  soft  thud  of  wood 
closing  against  wood,  that  a  door  had  been  quietly 
opened  and  as  quietly  closed  again.  The  room  into 
which  that  door  led  must  have  been  faintly  lighted, 
for  it  was  the  flowering  of  this  refracted  light  that 
had  caught  toy  attention. 

I  went  silently  up  the  stains,  step  by  step,  listening 
every  now  and  then  as  I  advanced.  Once  I  reached 
the  floor  level  I  kept  dose  to  the  wall,  feeling  my  way 
along  until  I  came  to  the  door  I  wanted. 

There  was  no  v/ay  whatever  of  det«muning  yAai 
stood  on  the  other  skle  of  that  door,  without  opening 


h 


I 


96    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

it    I  knew  what  risks  I  ran  in  attemptine  any  tucb 
movement    But  I  decided  it  was  worth  the  risk. 

Now,  ,f  a  door  is  opened  slowly,  if  every  quarter- 
inch  of  movement  is  measured  and  guarded,  it  can.  as 
a  rule,  be  done  noiselessly.  I  felt  quite  sure  there 
was  not  one  distinguishable  sound  as  I  cautiously 
turned  Aat  bronze  knob  and  even  more  cautiously 
worked  back  the  door,  i  :ch  by  inch. 

I  <ame  to  a  stop  when  it  stood  a  little  more  than  a 
foot  from  the  jamb.  I  did  not,  at  first,  attempt  to 
sidkm  through  the  aperture;  that  would  have  been 
needlessly  reckless.  I  stood  there  waiting,  anticipat- 
ing the  effect  the  door-movement  might  have  had  on 
any  occupant  of  the  room,  had  it  been  seen. 

While  I  waited  I  also  studied  that  portion  of  the 
chamber  which  fcU  within  my  line  of  vision  I  saw 
enough  to  convince  me  that  the  room  was  a  bed- 
room. I  could  also  make  out  that  it  was  laree,  and 
fn>m  Ae  rcwe-pirfc  of  its  walls  to  the  ivory-white 
of  Its  fiinushrngs  it  stood  distinctly  feminine  in  its 
note. 

There  was,  I  felt,  a  natttral  limit  to  that  period  of 
oq)cnmental  inaction.    The  silence  lengthened     The 

crisis  of  tedium  approached,  arrived,  and  passed.  Au- 
daciousness reconquered  me.  and  I  actually  advanced  a 
httle  mU)  the  room.  Steadying  myself  with  one  hand 
on  the  door-frame,  I  thrust  my  body  through  the  nar- 
row aperture  until  the  whole  four  walls  lay  subject 
to  my  line  of  vision.  ^ 

The  first  thing  I  noticed  was  a  green-shaded  elec- 
tric lamp  burmng  on  what  seemed  to  be  a  boudoir 


THE  OPEN  DOOR 


97 


writing-table.  It  left  the  rest  of  the  room  b  little 
more  than  twflight.  But  after  the  utter  darkness 
through  which  I  had  groped,  this  faint  illumination 
was  quite  adequate  for  my  purposes. 

I  let  my  gaze  pivot  about  the  room,  point  by  point 
Then,  if  I  did  not  gasp,  there  was  at  least  a  sudden 
and  involuntary  cessation  of  breathing,  for  standing 
beside  a  second  door  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room 
was  a  woman  dressed  in  black.  On  her  head  was  a 
black  hat,  round  which  a  veil  was  tightly  wound, 
the  front  of  it  apparently  thrust  up  hurriedly  from 
her  face.  But  what  startled  me  was  the  fact  that 
both  her  attitude  and  her  position  seemed  such  an 
exact  duf^cation  of  my  own. 

With  (me  hand,  I  noticed,  she  dtuig  to  the  frame  of 
the  door.  With  the  other  hand  she  held  back  a  heavy 
portiere,  which  hung  across  thi?  frame.  I  could  see 
the  white  half-oval  of  her  intent  face  as  she  stood 
there.  S<»nething  about  her  suggested  not  tlw  spy- 
ing  intruder  so  much  as  the  secret  listener.  Her  atten- 
tion seemed  directed  toward  some  object  which  her 
eyes  were  not  seeing.  It  appeared  as  though  she 
stood  waiting  to  overhear  a  sound  which  meant  much 
to  her. 

As  I  peered  past  her  through  the  dim  light  I  could 
catch  a  faint  glhnmer  of  green  and  white  marble,  with 
here  and  there  the  high-lights  reflected  from  polished 
nickel.  I  knew  then  that  the  room  into  which  she  was 
peering  was  a  bathroom,  and  this  bathroom,  I  con- 
cluded, (^)encd  on  a  sec(md  sle^ng-diamber  which 
held  the  raison  d'etre  of  her  moticHiIess  £^)prehension. 


!ll< 


98    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

I  directed  my  glance  once  more  tt  the  woman. 
Something  ahnost  penitential  in  her  attitude  brought 
the  sudden  thought  to  my  mind  that  she  had  commit- 
ted a  crime  at  the  mere  men.ory  of  which  she  was 
already  morally  stricken.  Unexpected  discoveiy,  I 
began  to  suspect,  had  driven  her  to  an  extreme  which 
she  was  already  beginning  to  regret  There  was, 
in  fact,  something  so  pregnant  and  portentous  in 
that  unchanging  attitude  of  hers  that  I  began  to  feel  it 
would  be  a  mean  surrender  on  my  part  to  evade  the 
issue  in  which  I  had  already  risked  so  much.  So  I 
moved  sUentiy  into  the  room,  crossing  it  without  a 
sound,  until  I  dropped  into  a  high-backed  fauteuU 
upholstered  in  embossed  and  pale-green  leather. 

I  sat  there  studying  her,  unaccountably  at  my  ease, 
fortified  by  the  knowledge  that  I  was  the  observer 
of  an  illicit  intrusion  and  that  my  own  presence,  if 
impertinent,  might  at  least  be  easily  expUiined.    I  saw 
her  sigh  deeply  and  audibly,  and  then  gently  close  the 
door,  dropping  the  curtain  as  she  turned  slowly  away. 
I  watched  her  as  she  crossed  to  the  dresser,  looked 
over  the  toilet  articles  on  it,  and  then  turned  away, 
ohe  next  skirted  a  heavy  cheval-mirror,  crossed  to  the 
writing-table  with  her  quick  yet  quietly  restless  move- 
ments, and  from  this  table  caught  up  what  seemed  to 
be  a  metal  paper-knife.    She  moved  on  to  an  ivory 
and  mother-of-pearl  desk,  which,  apparently,  she  al- 
ready knew  to  be  locked.    For  after  one  short  glance 
toward  the  curtained  door  again,  she  inserted  the  edge 
of  the  knife  in  a  crack  of  this  desk  and  slowly  pried 
on  the  lock-bar  that  held  it  shut 


THE  OPEN  DOOR 


99 


I  Mtw  her  Mcond  apprehensive  glance  toward  the 
curtained  door  at  the  lode  iprung  with  a  snap.  She 
sank  into  a  chair  before  it,  breathing  quickly,  obvkwsly 
waiting  a  minute  or  two  to  make  sure  ^  had  not 
been  overheard.  Then  with  quidc  and  dextrous  fingers 
she  rummaged  through  the  desk.  Ju&t  what  she  swept 
from  one  of  the  drawers  into  her  open  hand-bag 
I  could  not  distinguish.  But  I  plainly  saw  tfie  padc- 
age  of  letters  which  she  took  up  in  her  hand,  turned 
over  and  over,  then  carefully  and  quietly  secreted 
within  the  bosom  of  her  dress.  She  looked  deeper 
into  the  desk,  examined  an  additional  pi^ter  or  two 
which  appeared  not  to  interest  her,  and  sk>wly  swung 
back  the  cover. 

Then  she  slowly  rose  to  her  feet,  standing  beside 
the  desk.  She  let  her  gaze,  as  she  stood  there,  wander 
about  the  room.  I  could  distinctly  see  the  look  on 
.  her  face,  the  hungry  and  unhappy  lode  of  unsatisfied 
greed.  I  sat  motionless,  waiting  for  that  expression 
to  change.  I  knew  that  it  must  change,  for  it  would 
be  but  a  moment  or  two  before  she  caught  sight  of  me. 
But  I  had  seen  enough.  I  felt  sure  of  my  position — 
in  fact,  I  found  a  wajrward  relish  in  it,  an  almost 
enjoyable  antidpation  of  the  shock  which  I  knew  the 
discovery  of  my  presence  there  would  bring  to  her. 
I  even  exulted  a  little  in  that  impending  dramatic 
crisis,  rejoidng  in  the  slowness  with  whidi  tfie  inevit- 
able yet  qpochal  moment  was  apjvoaching. 

Her  eyes  must  have  dwdt  on  my  figure  for  several 
seconds  before  her  mind  became  convii^ed  of  my  ac- 
tual presence  there.    She  did  not  scream,  as  I  tiiought 


•^l 


too  THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

•he  wu  thout  to  do  when  I  mw  one  terrified  hand  go 
up  to  her  pwtly  open  Up^  Beyond  that  tingle  hand- 
movement  there  was  no  motion  whatever  from  her.  She 
•imply  stood  there,  white-faced  and  ^ttAku,  staring 
at  me  out  of  wide  and  vacant  eyes. 

"Good  evening-or,  rather,  good  morning!"  I  said, 
with  all  the  cabnne^s  at  my  command. 

For  one  brief  second  she  glanced  back  toward  the 

curtained  door,  as  though  behind  it  lay  a  sleeper  my 

words  might  awaken.    Then  she  starvd  at  me  agaia 

She  did  not  speak.    She  did  not  even  move.    The 

intent  and  staring  face,  white  as  a  half-moon  in  a  nusty 

•ky,  seemed  floating  in  space.     The  faint  light  of 

tfie  room  swaUowed  up  the  lines  of  her  black-cUul 

figure.  enisUng  the  face  in  the  unbroken  gkxmi  of  a 

Rembrandt-like  background,  making  it  stand  out  as 

though  it  were  luminous. 

It  was  a  face  well  worth  studying.  What  first 
•trudc  me  was  its  pallor.  Across  this  the  arched, 
famtly  mterrogativc  eyebrows  gave  it  a  false  air  of 
delicacy.  The  eyes  themselves  had  a  spacious  clarity 
vhich  warned  me  my  enemy  would  not  be  without  a 
cai^ble  enough  mind,  once  she  regained  possession 
of  her  wits.  Her  mouth,  no  longer  distorted  by  terror 
was  the  nervous.  fuU-lippcd  mouth  of  a  once  ardent 
spirit  touched  with  rebellion. 

She  was,  I  could  sec,  no  every-day  thief  of  the 
streets,  no  ordinary  offender  satisfied  with  mean  and 
petty  offenses.  There  would,  I  told  myself,  always  be 
a  largen^s  about  her  wrongdoing,  a  sinister  bril- 
liance m  her  illicit  pursuits.   And  even  while  I  decided 


THE  OPEN  DOOR 


loi 


this,  I  wu  forced  to  admit  that  it  wu  not  predady 
terror  I  waabdidding  on  Iwr  face.  It  aeemed  to  merge 
into  aomething  more  like  a  lente  of  shame,  the  fame 
tpeechkM  horror  whi  H  I  might  have  met  with  had  I 
intruded  on  her  bodify  nakedness.  I  could  see  that  she 
was  even  helping  to  resent  my  stare  of  curiosity. 
Then,  for  the  first  time,  sIm  spoke. 

"Who  are  ]rou?"  she  asked.  Her  voice  was  k>w; 
in  it  was  the  quaver  of  the  frightened  w<mum  reso- 
lutely steeling  herself  to  courage. 

"That* A  a  questi(m  you're  first  '  »o  answer  for 
mt"  was  my  cafanly  deliberate  n.     r. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  .  le  demanded,  still 
ccmfronting  me  frc»n  the  same  spot  I  remenibered 
the  bui^k  of  k)ot  which  I  had  dropptd  just  outside 
the  door. 

"I  can  answer  that  more  easily  than  you  can,"  I 
replied,  with  a  slij^t  iMad-movement  toward  the 
brdcen  desk-top. 

Once  more  her  glance  went  back  to  the  curtained 
door.  Then  she  studied  me  from  head  to  foot,  eadi 
sartorial  detail  and  accessory  of  clothing,  hat,  gkyves» 
and  slK>e8,  as  though  each  must  figure  in  the  resdution 
of  some  final  judgment 

"What  do  you  want?"  she  demanded. 

I  ineferred  to  leave  that  question  unanswered. 

"What  do  you  intend  to  do?"  she  demanded,  Qooe 
more  searching  my  face. 

I  resented  the  way  in  whidi  she  <.n^'*lpftted  my  own 
questions.  I  could  see,  fror)  tht  ft  >t,  thit  ri«  was 
going  to  be  an  extraordinar'vr  adept  P,nd  circuitous 


I02  THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


.1 


person  to  handle.  I  warned  myself  that  I  would  have 
to  be  ready  for  every  trick  and  turn. 

"What  do  you  suppose  I'm  going  to  do?"  I 
equivocated,  looking  for  some  betraying  word  to  put 
me  on  finncr  ground.  I  could  see  that  she  was  slow- 
ly regaining  her  self-possession. 

"You  have  no  right  in  this  house,"  she  had  the 
brazenness  to  say  to  me. 

"Have  your  I  quickly  retorted.  She  was  silent  for 
a  second  or  two. 

"No,"  she  admitted,  much  as  she  would  like  to  have 
claimed  the  contrary. 

"Of  course  not!  And  I  imagine  you  realize  what 
your  presence  here  implies,  just  as  what  your  dis- 
covery here  entails?" 

"Yes,"  she  admitted. 

"And  I  think  you  have  the  intelligence  to  under- 
stand that  I'm  here  for  motives  somewhat  more  dis- 
interested than  your  own?" 

"What  are  they?"  she  demanded,  letting  her  com- 
bative eyes  meet  mine. 

"That,"  I  cahnly  replied,  "can  wait  until  you've  ex- 
plained yourself." 

"I've  nothing  to  explain." 

There  was  a  newer  note  in  her  voice  again— one 
of  stubbornness.  I  could  see  that  the  cahnness  with 
which  I  pretended  to  regard  the  whole  affair  was  a 
source  of  bewilderment  to  her. 

"You've  got  to  explain,"  was  my  equally  obdurate 
retort 

Her  next  pose  was  one  of  frigidity. 


THE  OPEN  DOOR 


103 


**You  are  quite  mistaken.  We  have  nothing  what- 
ever to  do  with  each  other." 

"Oh,  yes  we  have.    And  I'm  going  to  prove  it" 

"How?" 

"By  putting  an  end  to  this  play-acting." 

"That  sounds  like  a  threat" 

"It  was  meant  for  one." 

"What  right  have  yo«  to  threaten  me?" 

She  looked  about  as  she  spoke,  ahnost  wearily. 
Then  she  sank  into  the  chair  that  stood  beside  the 
ravaged  writing-desk.  It  was  all  diverting  enough, 
but  I  was  beginning  to  lose  patience  with  her. 

"I'm  tired  of  all  this  side-stepping,"  I  told  her. 
An  answering  lode  of  anger  flashed  from  her  eyes. 

"I  object  to  your  presence  here,"  she  had  the 
effrontery  to  exclaim. 

"You  mean,  I  suppose,  that  I'm  rather  interfering 
with  your  night's  operations?" 

"Those  operations,"  she  answered  in  a  fluttering 
dignity,  "are  my  own  affairs." 

"Of  course  they  are!"  I  scoffed.  "They  have  to  be ! 
But  )^>u  should  have  kept  them  your  own  affairs. 
When  you  drop  a  bundle  of  swag  out  of  a  window 
you  shouldn't  ccxne  so  perilously  near  to  knocking  a 
man's  hat  off." 

"A  bundle  of  swa^?"  she  echoed,  with  such  a  precise 
imitation  of  wonder  that  I  could  {Mainly  see  she  was 
going  to  be  the  astutest  of  liars. 

"The  loot  you  intended  carrying  off  "  I  calmly  ex- 
plained. '*11te  stuff  you  dropp«i  down  beade  tlw 
house-step,  to  be  ready  for  your  getaway." 


5,  I' ; 


,  i 


■J-: 


104  THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

"My  whatr 

"Your  escape.    And  it  was  rather  clever." 

"I  dropped  nothing,"  she  protested,  with  a  fine  pre- 
tense of  bewilderment  on  her  face. 

"Nor  let  it  roll  quietly  oflF  a  front  window-ledge?" 
I  suggested. 

"I  was  near  no  window — it  would  be  impossible 
for  me  to  c^n  a  window,"  she  protested.  Her  words 
in  themselves  were  a  confession. 

'•You  seem  to  know  this  house  pretty  well,"  I  re- 
marked. 

'7  ought  to—ifs  my  <mm/'  was  her  quick  retort 

"It's  your  own?"  I  repeated,  amazed  at  the  woman's 
mendacity. 

"It  was  my  own,"  she  corrected. 

I  peered  quickly  about  the  room.  It  held  three 
doors,  one  behind  the  wcmian,  opening  into  the  bath- 
room, a  second  opening  into  the  hallway,  and  a  third 
to  the  rear,  which  plainly  opened  into  a  clothes-closet 
There  had  been  too  much  of  this  useless  and  foolish 
argument 

"Since  your  claim  to  proprietorship  is  so  strong,"  I 
said  as  I  crossed  to  the  hall  door,  and,  after  locking 
it,  pocketed  the  key,  "there  are  certain  features  of  it 
I  want  you  to  explain  to  me." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked,  once  more  on 
her  feet 

"I   want  to  know,"   I   said,   moving  toward   the 
curtained  door  beside  her,  "just  who  or  what  is  in 
that  front  room?" 
The  look  of  terror  came  back  to  her  white  face. 


li 


it 


THE  OPEN  DOOR 


los 


She  even  stood  with  her  back  against  the  door,  as 
though  to  keep  me  from  opening  it,  making  an  in- 
stinctive gesture  for  silence  as  I  stood  facing  her. 

"I'm  going  to  find  out  what  is  in  that  room,"  I 
proclaimed,  unmoved  by  the  agcmy  I  saw  written  on  her 
guilty  face. 

"Oh,  believe  me,"  she  said,  in  supplicatory  tones,  a 
little  above  a  whisper,  "it  will  do  no  good.  It  will  only 
make  you  sorry  you  interfered  in  this." 

"But  you've  made  it  my  duty  to  interfere." 

"No;  no;  you're  only  Wundering  into  something 
where  you  can  do  no  good,  where  you  have  no  right" 

"Then  I  intend  to  blunder  into  that  roomP'  And 
I  tore  the  portiere  f rcmi  her  grasp  and  flung  it  to  one 
side. 

"Wait,"  she  whispered,  white-faced  and  panting 
dose  beside  me.  "I'll  tdl  you  everything.  Ill  ex- 
plain it — ever3rthing." 

The  tn^c  solemnity  of  that  low-toned  relinquish- 
ment brought  me  up  short.  It  was  my  turn  to  be 
bewildered  by  an  opponent  I  could  not  understand. 

"Sit  down,"  she  said,  with  a  weary  and  almost  im- 
periou"  movement  of  the  hand  as  she  advanced  into 
the  room  and  again  sank  into  the  chair  beside  the 
writing-desk. 

"Now  what  is  it  you  want  to  know?**  she  asked, 
with  only  too  obvious  equivocatitm.  Her  trick  to  gain 
time  exasperated  me. 

"Don't  quibble  and  temporize  that  way,"  I  cried. 
"Say  what  you've  got  to,  and  say  it  quidc" 

She  directed  at  me  a  look  which  I  resented,  a  look' 


io6  THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

of  scorn,  of  superiority,  of  resignation  in  the  face  of 
brutalities  which  I  should  never  have  subjected  her  ta 
Yet,  when  she  spoke  again  her  voice  was  so  cahn  aa 
to  seem  almost  colorless. 

"I  said  this  was  my  home— and  it's  true.  This  was 
once  my  room.    Several  weeks  ago  I  left  it" 

"Why?"  I  inquired,  resenting  the  pause  which  was 
plainly  giving  her  a  chance  to  phrase  ahead  of  her 
words. 

"I  quarreled  with  my  husband.  I  went  away.  I 
was  angry.  I— I—  There's  no  use  explaining  what 
it  was  about." 

"You've  got  to  explain  what  it  was  about,"  I  in- 
sisted. 

"You  couldn't  possibly  understand.  It's  impossible 
to  explain,"  she  went  quietly  on.  "I  discharged  a 
servant  who  was  not  honest.  Then  he  tried  to  black- 
mail me.  He  lied  about  me.  I  had  been  foolish,  in- 
discreet, anythmg  you  care  to  call  it  But  the  lie  he 
told  was  awful,  unbelievable.  That  my  husband  should 
ask  me  to  disprove  it  was  more  than  I  could  endure. 
We  quarreled,  miserably,  hopelessly.  I  went  away.  I 
felt  it  would  be  humiliating  to  stay  under  the  same 
roof  with  him." 

"Wait,"  I  interposed,  knowing  the  weak  link  was 
sure  to  present  itself  in  time.  "Where  is  your  bus- 
band  now?" 

She  glanced  toward  the  curtained  door. 

"He's  in  that  room  asleep,"  she  quietly  reified. 

"And  knowing  him  to  be  asleep  you  caaat  to  dean 
out  the  house?"  I  promoted 


■=a^lE=~s^ 


THE  OPEN  DOOR 


107 


**No,"  she  answered  without  anger.  "But  wheri 
service  was  begun  for  an  interlocutory  decree  I  knew 
I  could  never  come  back  openly.  There  wwe  certain 
things  of  my  own  I  wanted  very  much." 

"And  just  how  did  you  get  into  the  house?" 

"The  one  servant  I  could  trust  agreed  to  throw  off 
the  latch  after  midnight,  to  leave  the  door  unlocked 
for  me  when  I  knew  I  would  never  be  seen." 

"Then  why  couldn't  that  trusted  servant  have  se- 
cured the  things,  these  things  you  came  after?  With- 
out all  this  foolish  risk  of  your  forcing  your  way 
into  a  house  at  midnight?" 

Her  head  drooped  a  little. 

"I  wanted  to  see  my  husband,"  was  the  quiet-toned 
response.  Just  how,  she  did  not  explain.  I  had  to 
admit  to  myself  that  it  was  very  good  acting.  But 
it  was  not  quite  convincing;  and  the  case  against  her 
was  too  palpably  clear, 

"This  is  a  fine  cock-and-bull  story,"  I  calmly  de- 
clared. "But  just  how  are  you  going  to  make  me 
believe  it?" 

"You  don't  have  to  believe  it,"  was  her  impassive 
answer.  "I'm  only  telling  you  what  you  demanded 
to  know." 

"To  know,  yes — but  how  am  I  to  know?" 

She  raised  her  hand  with  a  movement  of  listless 
resignation. 

"If  you  go  to  the  top  drawer  of  tfiat  dresser  you 
will  see  my  f^otograph  in  a  silver  frame  next  to  <»c  of 
my  husband.    That  will  show  you  at  a  glance." 

For  just  a  moment  it  flashed  through  me  as  I 


io8  THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

crossed  the  room  that  this  might  be  a  move  to  give 
her  time  for  some  attempted  escape.  But  I  felt,  on 
second  thought,  that  I  was  master  enough  of  the 
situation  to  run  the  risk.  And  here,  at  least,  was  a 
point  to  which  she  could  be  most  definitely  pinned 
down. 

"The  other  drawer,"  she  murmured  as  my  hand 
closed  on  the  fragile  ivory-tinted  knob.  I  moved  on 
to  the  second  drawer  and  opened  it.  I  had  thrust  an 
interrogative  finger  down  into  its  haphazard  clutter  of 
knick-knacks,  apparently  thrown  together  by  a  hurried 
and  careless  hand,  when  from  the  other  end  of  the 
room  came  a  quick  movement  which  seemed  to  curdle 
the  blood  in  my  veins.  It  brought  me  wheeling  about, 
with  a  jump  that  was  both  grotesque  and  galvanic 

I  was  just  in  time  to  see  the  figure  that  darted  out 
through  the  suddenly  opened  door  of  the  clothes-closet 

I  found  mysdf  confronted  by  a  man,  a  thin-lipped, 
heavy-jawed  man  of  about  thirty-five,  with  black  pin- 
point pupils  to  his  eyes.  He  wore  a  small-rimmed 
derby  hat  and  a  double-breasted  coat  of  blue  cheviot 
But  it  was  not  his  clothes  that  especially  interested 
me.  What  caught  and  held  my  attention  was  the 
ugly,  short-barreled  revolver  which  was  gripped  in 
the  fingers  of  his  right  hand.  This  revolver,  I  noticed, 
was  unmistakably  directed  at  me  as  he  advanced  into 
the  room.  I  could  not  decide  which  was  uglier,  the 
blue-metaled  gun  or  the  face  of  the  man  behind  it 

"Get  back  against  that  wall,"  he  commanded.    "Then 
throw  up  your  hands.    Get  'em  up  quidcT' 
I  had  allowed  her  to  trap  me  after  all !    I  had  even 


m 


IMli 


THE  OPEN  DOOR 


109 


let  myself  half -believe  that  pleasant  myth  of  the  slum- 
bering husband  in  the  next  roonL  And  all  the  while 
she  was  guarding  this  unsavory-lodcing  confederate 
who,  ten  to  one,  had  been  slinking  about  and  working 
his  way  into  a  wall-safe  even  while  I  was  wasting 
time  with  diverting  but  costly  talk. 

And  with  that  gun-barrel  Minking  at  me  I  had  no 
choice  in  the  matter — I  was  compelled  to  assume  the 
impotent  and  undignified  attitude  of  a  man  supplicating 
the  unanswering  heavens.  The  wcmian  turned  and 
contenq>lated  the  newcomer,  contemplated  him  with  a 
fine  pretense  of  surprise. 

"Hohhs"  she  cried,  "how  did  you  get  heref 

"You  shut  up!"  he  retorted  over  his  shoulder. 

'''vNThat  are  you  doing  in  this  house?"  she  repeated, 
with  a  sustained  show  of  amazemoit 

"Oh,  I'll  get  round  to  you,  all  right,  all  right,**  was 
his  second  rejoinder. 

Hobbs'  left  hand,  in  the  meanwhile,  had  lifted  my 
watch  from  its  podcet  and  with  one  quidc  jerk  tore 
watch  and  chain  away  from  its  waistcoat  andiorage. 

"You're  a  sweet  pair,  you  two!**  I  ejaculated,  for 
that  watch  was  rather  a  decent  one  and  I  hated  to 
see  it  ill-treated. 

"Shut  up  I"  said  Hobbs,  as  his  hand  went  down  in 
my  breast-podcet  in  search  of  a  wallet.  I  knew,  with 
that  gun-barrel  pressed  ckiee  against  n^  body,  that  it 
would  be  nothing  short  of  suicidal  to  tiy  to  have  it  out 
widi  him  then  and  there.  I  had  to  submit  to  that 
odious  pawing  and  prodding  about  my  body.  But 
if  my  turn  ever  came,  I  toM  myself,  it  would  be  a  sorry 


no  THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

day  for  Hobbs— and  an  equally  aorry  one  for  that 
smocth-toogued  confederate  of  his. 

"You're  a  sweet  pairl"  I  repeated,  hot  to  the  bone, 
as  that  insolent  hand  went  down  into  still  another 
pocket. 

But  it  did  not  stay  there.  I  saw  a  sudden  change 
creep  over  the  man's  face.  He  looked  up  with  a 
quick  and  bird-like  side-movement  of  the  head.  It 
was  not  until  he  wheeled  about  that  I  realized  the  rea- 
son of  the  movement. 

The  actual  motive  behind  the  thing  I  could  not 
fathiom.  The  real  significance  of  the  tableau  was  be- 
yond my  reach.  But  as  I  looked  up  I  saw  that  the 
woman  had  crept  noiselessly  to  the  hall  door,  and  with 
a  sudden  movement  had  thrust  out  her  hand  and  tried 
to  open  this  door.  But  as  I  had  afready  locked  it,  and 
still  carried  the  key  in  my  pocket,  her  effort  was  a 
useless  one.  Just  why  it  should  enrage  her  confederate 
was  more  than  I  could  understand.  He  ignored  me  for 
the  time  being,  crossing  the  room  at  a  run  and  flinging 
the  woman  in  bbck  away  from  the  door-knob.  She, 
in  turn,  was  making  a  pretense  to  resent  that  assault. 
Why  she  should  do  this  I  did  not  wait  to  ask.  I  saw 
my  chance  and  took  it 

Half-a-dozen  quick  steps  brought  me  to  the  bath- 
room door,  one  turn  of  the  knob  threw  it  open,  and 
another  stq>  put  me  through  it  and  brought  the  door 
closed  after  me  There  was,  I  found,  a  key  in  the 
lock.  AnoAer  second  of  time  saw  that  key  turned. 
A  quidc  pad  or  two  about  the  cool  marble  wall  brought 
my  hand  in  contact  with  the  light-switch. 


warn 


MB! 


THE  OPEN  DOOR 


III 


The  moment  the  light  came  on  I  darted  to  the 
inner  door  and  tried  it.  But  this,  to  my  diunay,  was 
lodced,  although  I  could  catch  sig^t  of  no  key  in  it 
I  ran  back  for  the  key  of  the  first  door,  tried  it,  and 
fotmd  it  useless.  At  any  nK>ment,  I  knew,  a  shot  mig^t 
ccMne  sintering  through  tluMe  thin  panels.  And  at 
any  moment,  should  they  decide  <m  that  move,  the 
two  of  themi  might  have  their  own  door  into  the  hall- 
way forced  open  and  be  scampmng  for  the  street 

I  reached  over  and  wrendMd  a  nickeled  towel-bar 
away  from  the  wall  opposite  me.  One  end  of  this 
I  deliberately  jabbed  into  the  white-leaded  wood  be- 
tween the  frame  and  the  jam  of  the  second  door.  I 
was  about  to  pry  vrith  aH  n^  force,  when  the  sound 
of  yet  another  voice  came  from  the  room  before  me. 
It  was  a  disturbed  yet  sleepy  voice,  muffled,  apparently, 
by  a  second  porti^e  hung  on  the  outside  of  Uie  second 
door, 

"Is  diat  you,  Simmonds?"  demanded  tiiis  vdce. 

I  continued  to  pry,  for  I  felt  like  a  rat  in  a  comer, 
in  that  bald  little  bathroom,  and  I  wanted  space 
about  me,  even  though  that  meant  fresh  danger.  The 
mysteries  were  now  more  than  I  could  deci{^er.  I 
no  longer  gave  thought  to  them.  The  first  tiling  I 
wanted  was  liberation,  eso^.  But  my  rod-end  bent 
under  the  pressure  to  which  I  st:d>iected  it,  and  I  bad 
to  reverse  it  and  try  for  a  fresh  hoM. 

I  could  hear,  as  I  did  so,  die  sudden  sound  of  fee*' 
crossing  a  floor,  the  didc  of  a  light-switch,  and  ^m 
the  rattle  of  the  portike-rings  aa.  the  rod  above  tiie 
door  at  which  I  stood. 


112  THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

"Who  locked  this  doorr  demanded  the  starUed 
voice  on  the  other  side.  For  answer,  Jirew  my 
weight  on  the  rod  and  forced  the  lock.  I  still  kept 
the  metal  rod  in  n^  hand,  for  a  possible  weapon,  as 
I  half-stimiblcd  out  into  the  larger  room. 

Before  me  I  saw  a  man  in  pajamas.  He  was  btond 
and  big  and  his  hair  was  rumpled— that  was  all  I 
knew  about  him,  beyond  the  fact  that  his  pajamas 
were  a  rather  foolish  tint  of  baby-blue.  We  stood 
there,  for  a  second  or  two,  staring  at  each. other. 
We  were  each  plainly  afraid  of  the  other,  just  as  we 
were  each  a  little  reassured,  I  imagine,  at  the  sight 
of  the  other. 

"For  the  love  of  God,"  he  gasped,  wide-eyed,  "who 
are  you?** 

"Quick,"  I  cried,  "is  this  your  house?** 

"Of  course  it's  my  house,*'  he  cried  back,  retreat 
ing  as  I  advanced.     He  suddenly  side-stepped  and 
idanted  his  thumb  on  a  call-bell. 

"GoodP*  I  said.  "Get  your  servants  here  quick. 
We'n  need  them!" 

"Who'll  need  them?   Whafs  wrong?   What's  up?** 

"I've  got  two  hargian  locked  m  that  room.** 

"Burglars?'* 

"Yes,  and  they*n  have  a  nice  haul  if  they  get  away. 
Have  you  got  a  revolver?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  jerking  open  a  drawer.  I  saw 
that  his  firearm  was  an  autcnnatic 

"Where's  the  telephone?"  I  demanded,  crossing  the 
room  to  Ae  door  that  opened  into  the  hall. 

"On  the  floor  below,"  he  a^nwered    He  pulled  on 


THE  OPEN  DOOR 


113 


a  tvown  blanket  dressing-gown,  drawing  iht  girdk 
tight  At  the  waist 

"You  can  get  to  it  quicker  than  I  can,"  I  told  him. 
"Give  me  the  gun,  and  throw  on  the  lights  as  you 
go  down.  Then  get  the  police  here  as  soon  as  you 
can." 

"What'U  you  do?"  he  demanded. 

"I'll  guard  the  door,"  I  answered  as  I  all  but  pushed 
him  into  that  hallway.  Then  I  swung-to  the  door 
after  me,  and  locked  it  from  the  outside.  "Quidc, 
the  gun,"  I  said.  There  was  no  fear  oa  his  face  now, 
yet  it  was  natural  enough  that  he  should  hesitate. 

"What  are  you?    An  dficer?*' 

There  was  no  time  for  an  explanaticMi. 

"Plain-cl(^es  man,"  was  my  glib  enough  answer, 
as  I  caught  the  pstd  from  his  hand.  He  switdied 
on  the  hall  lights. 

He  was  half-way  to  the  top  of  the  stairs  when  a 
woman's  scream,  high  {Mtched  and  horriUe,  echoed  out 
of  the  room  where  I  had  the  two  confederates  trapped. 
It  was  repeated,  shrill  and  sharp.  The  face  of  die  tig 
blond  man  went  as  white  as  chaOc. 

"Who  is  thatf*  he  demanded,  with  staring  eyes, 
facing  the  locked  door  of  the  second  room.  Thea  he 
backed  off  from  the  door. 

I  flung  a  cry  of  wammg  at  him,  but  it  did  not  stop 
his  charge.  His  great  shoulder  went  against  the 
paneled  wood  like  a  battering-ram.  Under  the  weight 
of  that  huge  body  the  entire  frame^fiacing  gave  way; 
he  went  lunging  and  staggering  from  sight  into  the 
dimly-lit  inner  room. 


114  THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


If  i 


/ 


I  waited  there,  with  my  gun  at  half-arm,  feeUng 
the  room  would  suddenly  erupt  its  two  prisoners. 
Then,  at  a  cry  from  the  man,  I  stepped  quickly  in 
after  him. 

I  had  fortified  myself  for  the  unexpected,  but  the 
strangeness  of  the  scene  took  my  breath  away.  For 
there  I  beheld  the  man  called  Hobbs  engaged  in  the 
absurd  and  extraordinary  and  altogether  brutal  occu- 
pation of  trying  to  beat  in  his  confederate's  head  with 
the  butt  of  his  heavy  revolver.  He  must  have  struck 
her  more  than  once,  even  before  the  man  in  the  hairy 
brown  dressing-gown  and  the  blue  pajamas  could  leap 
for  him  and  catch  the  uplifted  arm  as  it  was  about  to 
strike  again. 

The  woman,  protected  by  her  hat  and  veil  and  a 
great  mass  of  thick  hair,  still  showed  no  signs  of 
collapse.  But  the  moment  she  was  free  she  sat  back, 
white  and  panting,  in  the  same  high-armed  fauteuil 
which  I  myself  had  occupied  a  half-hour  before.  I 
made  a  leap  for  her  companion's  fallen  revolver,  before 
she  could  get  it,  though  I  noticed  that  she  now  seemed 
indifferent  to  both  the  loss  of  it  and  the  outcome  of 
the  struggle  which  was  taking  place  in  the  center  of 
that  pink  and  white  abode  of  femininity. 

And  as  I  kept  one  eye  on  the  woman  and  one  on 
the  gun  in  my  hand,  I,  too,  caught  fleeting  glimpses 
of  that  strange  struggle.  It  seemed  more  like  a  com- 
bat between  wildcats  than  a  fight  between  two  human 
beings.  It  took  place  on  the  floor,  for  neither  man 
was  any  longer  on  his  feet,  and  it  wavered  from  one 
side  of  the  room  to  the  other,  leaving  a  swath  of 


THE  OPEN  DOOR 


"5 


destruction  where  it  went  A  taUe  went  over,  « 
fragile-Umbcd  chair  was  crushed,  the  great  cbevaK 
glass  was  shattered,  the  writing-desk  coUapsed  with  a 
leg  snapped  oil,  a  shower  of  toilet  articles  littered 
the  rugs,  a  reading-hunp  was  overtnmed  and  went 
the  way  of  the  other  things.  But  stiU  the  fight  went 
on. 

I  no  longer  thought  of  li»  woman.  All  my  atten* 
tion  went  to  the  two  men  struggling  and  panting  about 
the  floor.  The  fury  of  the  man  in  the  shaggy  and 
bear-like  dressing-gown  was  more  than  I  could  under- 
stand. The  madness  of  his  onsUui^^  seemed  incom- 
prehensiUe.  This,  I  felt,  was  the  way  a  tigress  might 
fight  for  her  brood,  the  way  a  cave-man  might  battle 
for  his  threatened  mate.  Nor  did  that  fight  end  until 
the  big  blond  form  towered  triumphant  above  the 
darker  clad  figure. 

Then  I  looked  back  at  the  woman,  startled  by  her 
stillness  through  it  all.  She  was  leaning  forward, 
white,  intent,  with  parted  lips.  In  her  eyes  I  seemed 
to  see  uneasiness  and  solicitude  and  desobtion, 
but  above  them  all  sbwly  flowered  a  newer  look,  a 
look  of  vague  exultation  as  she  gazed  from  the  de- 
feated man  gasfnng  and  choking  for  breath  to  the 
broad  back  of  the  shaggy-haired  dressing-gown. 

I  had  no  chance  to  dwell  on  the  puzzle  of  this,  for 
the  man  tnvfioptd  in  the  shaggy-haired  garment  was 
calling  out  to  me. 

*Tic  him  up,"  he  called.    'Take  the  cartaia-con!»— 
but  tie  him  tight!" 
"Do  you  know  this  man?"  something  in  his  tone 


xi6  THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 


I 

h   \ 

! 


T|i 


prompted  me  to  ask,  as  I  struggled  with  the  heavy  silk 
curtain-cords. 

"It's  Hobbs." 

"I  know  that,  but  who's  Hobbs?" 

"A  servant  dismissed  a  month  ago  '  was  the 
other's  answer. 

"Then  possibly  you  know  the  woman?"  I  asked, 
looking  up. 

"Yes,  possibly  I  know  the  woman,"  he  repeated, 
standing  before  her  and  staring  into  her  white  and 
desolate  face.  It  took  me  a  moment  or  two  to  finish 
my  task  of  trussing  the  wrists  of  the  sullen  and 
sodden  Hobbs.  When  I  looked  up  the  woman  was 
on  her  feet,  several  steps  nearer  the  door. 

"Watch  that  woman!"  I  cried.  "She's  got  a  load 
of  your  loot  on  her!" 

My  words  seemed  merely  to  puzzle  him.  There  was 
no  answering  alarm  on  his  face. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  inquired.  He  seemed 
almost  to  resent  my  effort  in  his  behalf.  The  woman's 
stare,  too,  seemed  able  to  throw  hun  into  something 
approaching  a  comatose  state,  leaving  him  pale  and 
helpless,  as  though  her  eye  had  the  gift  of  some 
hypnotic  power.  It  angered  me  to  think  that  some 
mere  accidental  outward  husk  of  respectability  could 
make  things  so  easy  for  her.  Her  very  air  of  false 
refinement,  I  felt,  would  always  render  her  vicious- 
ness  double-edged  in  its  danger. 

"Search  her!"  I  cried.    "Sec  what  she's  got  under 
her  waist  there!" 
He  turned  his  back  on  me,  deliberately,  as  though 


Ml 


■MM 


THE  OPEN  DOOR 


"7 


resenting  my  determination  to  dog  him  into  an  act 
that  was  distasteful  to  him. 

"What  have  you  there?"  he  asked  her,  without 
advancing  any  closer. 

There  was  utter  silence  for  a  moment  or  two. 

"Your  letters,"  she  at  last  answered,  scarcely  above 
a  whisper. 

"What  are  they  doing  there?"  he  asked. 

"I  wanted  them,"  was  all  she  said. 

"Why  should  you  want  my  letters?"  was  his  next 
question. 

She  did  not  answer  it.  The  man  in  the  dressing- 
gown  turned  and  pointed  to  the  inert  figure  of 
Hobbs. 

"What  about  him?    How  did  A^  get  here?" 

"He  must  have  followed  me  in  from  the  street 
when  the  door  was  unlocked.  Or  he  may  have  come 
in  before  I  did.  and  kept  in  hiding  sMiltwhere." 

"Who  left  the  door  unlocked?" 

"Simmonds." 

"Why?" 

"Because  he  could  trust  me!" 

"■  here  was  a  muffled  barb  in  this  retort,  a  batb  which 
I  could  not  understand.  I  could  see,  however,  that  it 
had  its  effect  on  the  other  man.  He  stared  at  the 
woman  with  sudden  altered  mien,  with  a  fooHsh  drop 
of  the  jaw  which  elongated  his  face  and  widened  his 
eyes  at  the  same  moment  Then  he  wheeled  on  the 
sullen  Hobbs. 

"HoBhi,  you  tied  about  kerr  he  cried,  like  a  bHnd 
man  at  last  lacing  the  light 


#^ 


^^^^SbmSrZjiS^  -" 


iiiiMhliiliiiMHlU 


ii8  THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 


I 


He  had  his  hand  on  the  bound  and  helpless  burglar's 
throat 

"Tell  me  the  truth,  or  by  the  living  God,  I'll  kill  you ! 
You  lied  about  her?" 

"About  what?"  temporized  Hobbs. 

"You  know  what!" 

Hobbs,  I  noticed,  was  doing  his  best  to  shrink  back 
from  the  throttling  fingers. 

"It  wasn't  my  fault!"  he  equivocated. 

"But  you  lied?" 

Hobbs  did  not  answer,  in  words.  But  the  man  in 
the  dressing-gown  knew  the  answer,  apparently,  be- 
fore he  let  the  inert  figure  fall  away  from  his  grasp. 
He  turned,  in  a  daze,  back  to  the  waiting  and  watching 
woman,  the  white-faced  woman  with  her  soul  in  her 
eyes.  His  face  seemed  humUled,  suddenly  aged  with 
some  graying  blight  of  futile  contrition. 

The  two  staring  figures  appeared  to  sway  and  waver 
toward  each  other.  Before  I  could  understand  quite 
what  it  all  meant  the  man  had  raised  his  arms  and 
the  woman  had  crept  into  them. 

"Oh,  Jim,  I've  been  such  a  fooir*  I  heard  her 
waiL    And  I  could  see  that  she  was  going  to  cry. 

I  knew,  too,  that  that  midnight  of  blunders  had  left 
me  nothing  to  be  proud  of,  that  I  had  been  an  idiot 
from  the  first— and  to  make  that  idiocy  worsen  I 
was  now  an  intruder. 

"Ill  sl^  down  and  look  after  that  pHociing,"  I 
mumbled,  so  abashed  and  humiliated  that  as  I  groped 
wearily  out  dirougfa  the  door  I  stumbled  over  the 
Rttsstan-squirrel  bundle  which  I  had  traced  there  with 


THE  OPEN  DCX)R 


119 


my  own  hands.  It  was  not  until  I  reached  the  street 
that  I  realized,  with  a  gulp  of  relief,  how  yet  another 
night  of  threatening  misery  had  been  dissemUed  and 
lost  in  action,  very  much  as  the  pills  of  childhood  are 
dissembled  in  a  spoonful  of  jelly. 


.'     i 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  MAN   FROM   MEDICINE  HAT 

r  ^^J  ^  ^f  "°^'"'"^  sun-parlor  of  mine,  known 
*to  the  world  as  Madison  Square,  demanding  of  the 
quiet  night  why  sleep  should  be  denied  me,  and  doing 
my  best  to  keep  from  thinking  of  Maiy  Lockwood  1 
sat  there  with  my  gaze  fixed  idly  on  a  girl  in  black 
who  m  turn,  stared  idly  up  at  Sagittarius. 

Then  I  lost  interest  in  the  blacksdad  and  seemmgly 
catelep^c  star-^er     For  I  was  soon  busy  watch^g 
LT    JTu^  '""^^  ^dAooldng  velour  hat    My  eyes 
foUowed  hun  from  the  moment  he  first  turned  eit- 
ward  out  of  Fifth  Avenue.    They  were  stiU  on  him  as 
wherT  lIL^^^  ^^^  ^  southward  again  into  the  square 
The  pure  juml^sness  of  his  movements  arrested  my 
attention.     The  figure  that  drifted  listlessly  in  past 
the  Farragut  Statue  and  wandered  on  under  the  ^k 
^ces  m  some  way  reminded  me  of  my  owa    I,  too, 
knew  only  too  weU  what  it  was  to  circle  doggedl^  and 
^illenly  about  like  a  beU-boy  paging  thrcorrM^rs 
of  night  for  that  fugitive  known  as  Sleep 

I  ^  \  T'^"*?'  *°  ''**'^  ^*"'  ^"^^y  «»d  closely. 
I  had  lost  my  interest  in  the  white-faced  giri  who 
sat  withm  twenty  paces  of  me,  looking,  silent  and 
still,  up  at  the  autumn  stars. 
It  was  the  man's  figure,  thereafter,  that  chaHenged 

I20 


Bl 


THE  MAN  FROM  MEDICINE  HAT      121 


my  attention,  for  this  man  marked  the  only  point  of 
movement  in  what  seemed  a  city  of  the  dead.  It  was, 
I  remembered,  once  more  long  past  midnight,  the 
hour  of  suspended  life  in  the  emptied  canyons  of 
the  lamp-strung  streets  when  the  last  taxi  had  htmimed 
the  last  reveler  home,  and  the  first  milk-wagons  had 
not  yet  rattled  up  from  the  East  River  ferries. 

So  I  sat  there  listlessly  watching  the  listlessly  mov- 
ing figure  with  the  wide  hat-brim  pulled  down  over  its 
face.  There  was  something  still  youthful  about  the 
man,  for  all  the  despondent  droop  to  the  shoulders.  I 
asked  myself  idly  who  or  what  he  could  be.  I 
wondered  if,  like  myself,  he  was  merely  hatmted  by 
the  curse  of  wakefulness,  if  the  same  bloodhounds 
of  unrest  dogged  him,  too,  through  the  dark  hours  of 
the  night.  I  wondered  if  he,  too,  was  trying  to  esc£^ 
from  the  grinding  machinery  of  thought  into  some 
outer  passivity. 

I  saw  him  thread  his  indeterminate  way  along  the 
winding  park  walks.  I  saw  him  glance  wearily  up 
at  the  massive  austerity  of  the  Metropolitan  Tower, 
and  then  turn  and  gaze  at  the  faded  Diana  so  un- 
concernedly poised  above  her  stolen  Sevillian  tur- 
rets. I  saw  him  look  desolately  about  the  square  with 
its  bench-rows  filled  with  huddled  and  motionless 
sleepers.  These  sleepers,  with  their  fallen  heads  and 
twisted  limbs,  with  their  contorted  and  moveless 
bodies,  made  Ae  half-lit  square  as  horrible  as  a  bat- 
tlefield. Qouded  by  the  heavy  shadows  of  the  park 
trees,  they  seemed  like  the  bodies  of  dead  men,  like 
broken  and  sodden  things  over    which  had  ground 


133    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


tiie  wheels  of  carnage.  The  only  iminnur  or  sound  of 
life  was  the  fountain,  with  its  column  of  slowly  rising 
and  slowly  falling  water,  like  the  tired  polse-beat  of 
the  tired  city. 

The  man  in  the  velour  hat  seemed  to  find  some- 
Ain£:  companionable  in  this  movement,  for  he  slowly 
drew  nearer.  He  came  within  three  benches  of  where 
I  sat  Then  he  flung  himself  down  on  an  empty 
seat  I  could  see  his  white  and  haggard  fece  as  he 
watched  the  splashing  fountain.  I  could  sec  his 
shadowy  and  unhappy  eyes  as  he  pushed  back  his  hat 
and  mopped  his  moist  forehead  Then  I  saw  him 
suddenly  bury  his  head  in  his  hands  and  sit  there, 
minute  by  minute,  without  taav'mg. 

When  he  made  his  next  movement,  it  was  a  start- 
ling one.  It  sent  a  tingle  of  nerves  scampering  up 
and  down  my  backbone.  For  I  saw  his  right  hand 
go  down  to  his  pocket,  pause  there  a  moment,  and 
then  suddenly  lift  again.  As  it  did  so  my  eye  caught 
the  white  glimmer  of  metal.  I  could  see  the  flash  of 
a  revolver  as  he  thrust  it  up  under  the  hat-brim,  and 
held  the  nickeled  barrel  close  against  his  temple, 
just  above  the  lean  jaw-tr>ne. 

It  was  so  sudden,  so  unexpected,  that  I  must  hav« 
closed  my  eyes  in  a  sort  of  mvoluntary  wince.  The 
first  coherent  thought  that  came  to  me  was  that  I 
could  never  readi  him  in  time.  Some  soberer  second 
thought  was  to  the  effect  that  even  my  interference 
was  useless,  that  he  and  his  life  were  his  own,  that 
a  man  once  set  on  self-destruction  will  not  be  kept 
from  it  by  any  outside  mfluence 


THE  MAN  FROM  MEDIQNE  HAT      123 

Yet  even  as  I  looked  again  at  his  huddled  figure,  I 
heard  his  Uttle  gasp  of  something  that  must  have  been 
between  fear  and  defeat  I  saw  the  arm  slowly  sink 
to  his  side.  He  was  looking  straight  before  him,  his 
unseeing  eyes  wide  with  te  tor  and  hazy  with  inde- 
cision. 

It  was  then  that  I  decided  to  interfere.  To  do  so 
seemed  only  my  plain  and  decent  duty.  Yet  I  hesi- 
tated for  a  moment,  pondering  just  how  to  phrase 
my  opening  speech  to  him. 

Even  as  I  took  a  sudden,  deeper  hreaih  of  resota- 
tion,  and  was  on  the  point  of  crossing  to  his  side,  I 
saw  him  fling  the  revolver  vehemently  from  him. 
It  went  glimmering  and  tumWing  along  the  coppery- 
green  grass.  It  lay  there,  a  point  of  high  light  against 
the  darkness  of  the  turf. 

Then  I  looked  back  to  the  stranger,  and  saw  his 
empty  hands  go  up  to  his  face.  It  was  a  quiet  and 
yet  a  tragic  gesture  of  utter  misery.  Each  palm  was 
pressed  m  on  the  corded  cheek-bones,  with  the  finger- 
ends  hard  against  the  eyeballs,  as  though  that  futile 
pressure  could  crush  away  all  inner  and  all  outer 
vision. 

Then  I  turned  back  toward  the  fallen  revolver.  As 
I  did  so  I  noticed  a  figure  in  black  step  quiedy  out 
and  pick  up  the  firearm.  It  was  the  white-faced  giri 
who  had  sat  looking  t^  at  the  stars.  Before  I  fully 
realized  the  meaning  of  her  moven^nt,  she  slipped  the 
weapon  out  of  sight,  and  passed  silently  on  down  the 
winding  asphalt  walk,  between  the  rows  of  siegers, 
toward  the  east    There  was  somethmg  arresting  in 


124    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

the  thin  young  figure,  something  vaguely  purposeful 
ind  appealing  in  the  poise  of  the  half-veikd  head 

1  vaallated  for  a  moment,  undecided  as  to  which 
to  approach.  But  a  second  glance  at  the  man  in  the 
vclour  hat.  crouched  there  in  his  utter  and  impassive 
misery,  caused  me  to  cross  over  to  him. 

I  put  a  hand  on  his  flaccid  shoulder,  and  shook  it 
He  did  not  move  at  first,  so  I  shook  him  again.  Then 
he  directed  a  slow  and  Vesentful  glance  at  me. 

I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  you,"  I  began,  puzzled 
as  to  how  to  proceed    He  did  not  answer  mT^ 

W  i.T'f  ^'^^^"^  '^  ^  '^"  ^  txphdn^,  as  I  still 
let  my  hand  rest  on  his  shoulder. 

"Oh.  go  'way!"  he  ejaculated.* in  utter  listlessness. 
shaking  my  hand  from  his  shoulder 

"No  I  won't  ri  quite  firmly  infonned  him.    He 
shrank  back  and  moved  away.     Then  he  turned  on 
me  with  a  resentment  that  was  volcanic. 
"For  God's  sake  leave  me  alone!"  he  cried 
A  sleeper  or  two  on  near-by  benches  sat  up  and 
stared  at  us  with  their  drowsily  indifferent  eyes. 

th  J' rdllrd.'^"  "^""  ^  '"^^  °^  ''^^''  '^^ 
"That's  my  own  business,"  he  retorted. 
Then  you  intend  to  keep  it  up?"  I  inquired. 
No,  I  don't,"  he  flung  back.    "/  can't.'* 

"Then  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  talk  to  me  r  His 
sullen  anger  seemed  strangely  removed  from  that 
saltation  which  tradition  imputes  to  last  moments. 
It  evren  took  an  effort  to  be  patient  with  him. 

No.  I  won't,"  was  his  prompt  retort    It  dampened 


THE  MAN  FROM  MEDIQNE  HAT     las 

an  the  quixotic  fires  in  my  body.  Then  he  roie  to 
his  feet  and  confronted  me.  "And  if  you  don't  get 
out  of  here,  I'U  kUl  you!" 

His  threat,  in  some  way,  struck  me  as  funny.  I 
laughed  out  loud. 

But  I  did  not  waste  further  time  on  him. 

I  was  ah-eady  thinking  of  the  other  figure,  the  equall/ 
mysterious  and  more  appealing  figure  in  blade. 

I  swung  round  and  strode  on  through  the  tren  just 
in  time  to  see  that  somber  and  white-faced  young 
woman  cross  Madison  Avenue,  and  pass  westward  be- 
tween a  granite-columneu  church  and  the  towering 
obelisk  of  a  more  modem  god  of  commerce.  I  kept  my 
eyes  mi  this  street-end  as  it  swallowed  her  up.  Then  I 
passed  out  through  the  square  and  under  the  ck)$k- 
dial  and  into  Twenty-fourth  Street 

By  the  time  I  had  reached  Fourth  Avenue  I  again 
caught  «ght  of  the  black-dad  figure.  It  was  movmg 
eastward  on  the  south  side  of  the  8treet,'as  unhurried 
and  impassive  as  a  sleep-walker. 

When  half-way  to  Lexington  Avenue  I  saw  the 
woman  stop,  look  slowly  round,  and  then  go  slowly 
up  the  steps  of  a  red-bride  house.  She  did  not  ring, 
I  could  see,  but  let  herself  in  wiA  a  pass-key.  Once 
the  door  had  closed  on  her,  I  sauntered  toward  this 
house.  To  go  lartfaer  at  sudi  an  hour  was  out  of 
the  question.  But  I  made  a  careful  note  of  the  street 
number,  and  also  of  the  fact  that  a  dip  of  paper  pasted 
on  the  sandstone  door-post  announced  the  fact  of 
"Furnished  Ro(»ns." 

I  saw,  not  only  that  little  was  to  be  gained  theie, 


I  I 


^  11 


ia6    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

^  ahk)  that  I  had  faced  my  ucond  diwppolntmeiit 
fi)0 1  promptly  swung  back  to  Madison  Square  and  the 
fountam  where  I  had  left  the  man  in  the  vdou;  hat 
I  ran  my  eye  from  bench  to  bench  of  rfeepere,  but  he 
w  not  among  them.    I  went  over  the  parte,  walk  by 
w^,  but  my  seareh  was  unrewarded.    Then  I  drded 
about  into  Broadway,  widening  my  radius  of  inspec 
toon.    I  Auttled  back  and  forth  along  the  side-streets. 
I  veered  up  and  down  the  neighboring  avenues.    But 
It  was  useless.    The  man  in  the  veteur  hat  was  gone. 
Then,  to  my  surprise,  as  I  paced  the  midnight 
streets,  a  sense  of  physical  weariness  crept  over  me.    I 
reahzed  that  I  had  walked  for  miles.    I  had  forgotten 
my  own  troubles  and  that  most  kindly  of  aU  narcotics, 
utter  fatigue,  crept  through  me  like  a  drug. 

So  I  went  home  and  went  to  bed.  And  for  the  first 
time  that  week  I  felt  the  Angel  of  Sleep  stoop  over 
ine  of  her  own  free  will    For  the  first  time  that  week 

thCTe  WM  no  need  of  the  bitter  ladi  of  chloral  hydrate 
to  beat  back  the  bloodhounds  of  wakefulness.  I  fefl 
OTto  a  sound  and  unbroken  slumber,  and  when  I  woke 
up,  Benson  was  waiting  to  announce  that  my  bath 
was  ready. 

Two  hours  later  I  was  ringing  die  bell  of  a  certain 
old-fashioned  red-brick  apartment-house  in  East 
Twcnty^fourth  Street  I  knew  Uttfe  enough  about 
such  places,  but  this  was  one  obvkmsly  uninviting; 
from  the  rusty  hand-rail  to  the  unwashed  window 
drapwies.  Equafly  unprepossessing  was  the  corpokirt 
and  dead-eyed  landlady  in  her  faded  bhie  house- 
wrapper;  and  equaOy  dqnssing  dkl  I  feid  4e  dat- 


ii 


THE  MAN  FROM  MEDIQNE  HAT     u? 

ternly  and  bAred-anned  tenrant  w^o  was  dd^iated 
to  lead  me  up  through  the  musty-smdtiiig  halls.  The 
third-floor  front,  I  was  mformed,  waa  the  only  room 
in  the  house  empty,  though  iu  rear  neighbor,  which 
was  a  bargain  at  two  doUan  and  a  half  a  week,  waa 
soon  to  be  vacated. 

I  took  the  third-floor  front,  without  so  mndi  as 
one  searching  k>ok  at  its  hidden  beauties.  The  lady 
of  the  faded  blue  wrapper  emitted  her  first  spark 
of  life  as  I  handed  over  n^  four  dollars.  The  list- 
less eyes,  I  couM  see,  were  touched  with  regret  at  the 
thought  that  she  had  not  asked  for  morfc  I  tried  to 
cxpUun  to  her,  as  she  exacted  a  deposit  for  my  pass- 
key, that  I  was  likely  to  be  irregular  in  my  hours  and 
perhaps  a  \M  peculiar  in  n^  halnts. 

These  intimations,  however,  had  no  ponderaMe  ef- 
fect upon  her.  She  first  abashed  me  l^  stowing  the 
money  away  in  the  depths  of  her  open  corsage,  and 
then  perplexed  me  by  dedaring  that  all  she  set  out  to 
do,  since  her  legs  went  bade  on  her,  was  to  keep  her 
first  two  floors  decent.  Above  that,  apparently,  de- 
portment could  look  after  itsdf,  the  upper  regioiu 
beyond  her  ken  could  be  Olympian  m  tiieir  moral  laxi- 
ties. 

As  I  stood  there,  smilmg  over  tiiis  discovery,  a 

figure  m  black  rustled  down  the  narrow  stairway  and 

edged  past  us  in  the  half-lit  halL 
The  light  fen  full  on  her  lace  as  ^  opened  the  door 

to  the  street   It  outfined  her  figure,  as  Am  as  that  of 

a  medieval  sahit  from  a  missal    It  was  the  young 

woman  I  had  followed  from  Madison  Square; 


hi 
i 


ia8    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

Of  tWt  I  WM  cert*Jn-.f rom  the  moment  the  Mt 
ifjm  her  thm<heeked  face,  where  ««iety  JS 

to  heve  pomted  the  «,ft  oval  of  the  chin  into  ««.e. 
ti^mjA-lilce  in  it.  diaipne...    About  her.  ^ 

b^  the  f^  thet  her  eye.  were  the  mo«  ni,^ 

if  **'  '  "P*"*  ^*  bewildered  and  baffled.    But  I 
c^iMijee  that  Aewa.,  or  that  she  had  beT^ 
^toftd  yowig  woman,  though  still  again  the  slcnder- 

^f  *»«  fi««*  made  me  think  of  a  Mdnt  from  a 

a^  slatternly  servant  up  the  dark  stairs    Once  in 

ZrTn^*"^  ^  ***~^  "^^^ -^  «  the  sul. 
Jur-yenow  wallpaper  and  the  mehncholy  antiquities 
Aat  masqueraded  as  furniture.  Then  I  «ime  bSdTto 
the  issue  at  hand.  ^^         ^ 

"Who  is  thjrt  young  woman  in  Mack  who  happened 
to^^  us  in  the  ha«r  I  casually  inqui«d.      ^^ 

T^oft^hare^armedgirL    I  turned  to  u«Xthe 
nwamng  of  this  obvious  cc^uialism. 

™^T'  ****  *^*.  ^^*  ^^"  *^^  °V  newfound  and 
cyw«J  young  fnend.    "She  ain't  d«it  kind." 

ata^'^  *'^' l"*^  "  '  »^^  •  «»  "to  the 
Jtortled  and  somewhat  incredulous  hand  of  toil  The 
transformation  was  immediate 

"She  ain't  nothing  was  the  answer.  "She's  just 
afour.flush.aadsc^ranf  Ami  unless  die  sq«^  ^ 
the  madam  by  Saturday  she's  g«n'  to  do  W^' 
m  somebody  else's  bath-tub  I" 


THE  MAN  FROM  MEDICINE  HAT      139 

Through  this  sordid  quartz  of  calkMuncis  ran  one 
silver  streak  of  hick.  It  wat  plain  that  I  was  to  be 
on  the  same  floor  with  the  girl  in  Mack.  And  that 
discovery  seemed  quite  enough. 

I  waited  until  the  maid  was  lost  in  the  gteom  below- 
stairs  and  the  house  was  quiet  again.  Then  I  cahnly 
and  quietly  stepped  out  into  the  little  hall,  pushed  open 
the  door  of  the  rear  room,  and  slipped  inside.  I  ex- 
perienced, as  I  did  so,  a  distinct  and  quite  pleasurable 
quickening  of  the  pulse. 

I  found  myself  in  a  mere  cell  of  a  rown,  with  two 
dormer  windows  fadng  a  disorderly  vista  of  chimney- 
pots and  brick  walls.  On  the  sill  of  one  window 
stood  an  abnost  empty  milk4x)ttle.  Beside  the  other 
window  was  a  trunk  mariced  with  the  initials  "H.  W." 
and  the  pretty-nearly  obliterated  words  "Medicine 

Hat." 

About  the  little  room  brooded  an  almost  forlorn 
air  of  neatness.  On  one  wall  was  tacked  a  picture 
postcard  inscribed  "In  Ae  Devil's  Pool  at  Banff."  On 
another  was  a  ranch  scene,  an  unnKranted  jrfiotogr^ih 
whidi  showed  a  laughing  and  dear-browed  girl  on  a 
white-dappled  pinto.  On  the  chintz-covered  bureau 
stood  a  half-filled  ca.  jm  of  soda^biscuits.  Beside  this, 
again,  lay  an  empty  candy-box.  From  tl»  mirror  of 
this  bureau  smiled  down  a  face  that  was  familiar  to 
me.  It  was  a  magazine-print  of  Harriet  Walter,  the 
young  Broadway  star  who  had  reached  success  with 
the  production  of  Broken  Tits,  the  same  Harriet 
Walter  who  had  been  duly  announced  to  many  Percy 
Adams,  the  son  of  the  Traction  Magnate.    My  own 


[;«:  ,;v,««.^Pl 


m 


130    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

den,  I  remembered,  held  an  autographed  copy  of  the 
same  picture. 

Beyond  this,  however,  the  room  held  little  of  inter- 
est and  nothing  of  surprise.  Acting  on  a  sudden  and 
a  possibly  fooUsh  impulse,  after  one  final  look  at  the 
room  and  its  record  of  courageous  struggles,  I  took  a 
bank-note  from  my  waistcoat  pocket,  folded  it,  opened 
the  top  drawer  of  the  bureau  and  dropped  the  biU  into 
it.  Then  I  stood  staring  down  into  the  still  open 
drawer,  for  before  me  lay  the  revolver  whidi  the  girl 
had  carried  away  the  night  before  from  Malison 
Square. 

In  a  few  moments  I  went  back  to  my  own  room  and 
sat  down  in  the  broken-armed  rocking-chair,  and  tried 
desperately  to  find  some  key  to  the  mystery.  But  no 
light  came  to  me. 

I  was  stiU  puzzled  over  it  when  I  heard  the  sound 
of  steps  on  the  uncarpeted  stairway.  They  were  very 
slow  and  faltering  steps.  As  I  stood  at  the  half-opened 
door  hstening,  I  felt  sure  I  heard  the  sound  of  some- 
tiung  that  was  half-way  between  a  sob  and  a  ga^. 
Then  came  the  steps  again,  and  then  the  sound  of 
heavy  breathing.  I  heard  the  rustle  of  paper  as  the 
door  of  the  back  room  was  pushed  open,  and  then 
the  quick  slam  of  the  door. 

This  was  foUowed  by  a  quiet  and  almost  inarticulate 
cry.  It  was  not  a  call,  and  it  was  not  a  moan.  But 
what  startled  me  into  sudden  action  was  the  noise 
Aat  followed.  It  was  a  sort  of  soft-pedaled  thud,  as 
though  a  body  had  fallen  to  the  floor. 
I  no  longer  hesitated.    It  was  dear  that  something 


THE  MAN  FROM  MEDICINE  HAT     131 

was  wrong.    I  ran  to  the  closed  door,  knocked  on  it, 
and  a  moment  later  swung  it  open. 

As  I  stepped  into  the  room  I  could  see  the  girl  lying 
there,  her  upturned  face  as  white  as  chalk,  with  Muish- 
gray  shadows  about  the  closed  eyes.  Beside  her  on 
the  floor  lay  a  newspaper,  a  flaring  head-lined  after- 
noon editicm. 

I  stood  staring  stupidly  down  at  the  white  face  for  a 
moment  or  two  before  it  came  to  me  that  the  girl  had 
merely  fallen  m  a  faint.  Then,  seeing  the  slow  beat 
of  a  pulse  in  the  thin  throat,  I  dropped  on  one  knee 
and  tore  open  the  nedc  of  her  blouse.  Then  I  got 
water  from  the  stoneware  jug  on  the  wash-stand  and 
sprinkled  the  placid  and  colorless  brow.  I  could  see, 
as  I  lifted  her  up  on  the  narrow  white  bed,  how  blood- 
less and  ill-nurtured  her  body  was.  The  girl  was  half 
starved ;  of  that  there  was  no  sUadow  of  doubt 

She  came  to  very  slowly.    As  I  leaned  over  her, 
waiting  for  the  heavy-lidded  eyes  to  open,  I  let  my 
glance  wander  back  to  the  newspaper  on  the  floor.    I 
there  read  that  Harriet  Walter,  the  young  star  of  the 
Broken  Ties  Company,  had  met  with  a  serious  acci- 
dent   It  had  occurred  while  riding  down  Momingsidc 
Avenue  in  a  touring-car  driven  by  Percy  Alward 
Adams,  Ae  son  of  the  well-known  Tractkm  Mag- 
nate.   The  brake  had  apparently  refused  to  work  on 
Cathedral  Hill,  and    le  car  had  collided  with  a  pillar 
of  the  Elevated  Railway  at  the  comer  of  One-hundred- 
and-ninth  Stitet    Adams  himself  had  escaped  with  a 
somewhat  lacerated  arm,  bat  lim  Walter's  injuries 
were  more  serious.    She  had  been  taken  at  once  to  St 


i 


5-^^ 


132    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

Luke's  Hospital,  but  a  few  blocks  away.  She  had  not, 
however,  regained  consciousness,  and  practically  all 
h<^  of  recovery  had  been  abandoned  by  the  doctors. 
I  was  f  renziedly  wondering  what  tie  could  bind  these 
^o  strangely  diverse  young  women  together  when 
the  girl  beside  me  gave  signs  of  returning  life.  I  was 
still  sousmg  a  ridiculous  amount  of  water  on  her  face 

and  neck  when  her  eyes  suddenly  opened.    They  looked 
up  at  me,  dazed  and  wide  with  wonder. 

"Wl^t  is  it?"  she  asked,  gazing  about  the  room, 
ihen  she  looked  back  at  me  again. 

«p1  ^J^/*^"  °»"st  ha^e  fallen."  I  tried  to  explain. 
But  Its  aU  right;  you  mustn't  worry." 
My  feeble  effort  at  reassuring  her  was  not  effective. 
1  could  see  the  perplexed  movement  of  her  hands  the 
unuttered  mquirjr  still  in  her  eyes.  She  lay  there,  star- 
ing at  me  for  a  long  time. 

"You  see.  I'm  your  new  neighbor,"  I  told  her,  "and 
i  heard  you  frotr  my  room." 

She  did  not  speak.  But  I  saw  her  lips  pucker  into 
a  little  sob  that  shook  her  whole  body.  There  seemed 
•something  indescribably  childlike  in  the  movement  It 
took  a  fig^t  to  keep  uf-       ^r  of  bland  optimism. 

^  And  now."  I  dec: .  :      I'm  going  to  slip  out  for  a 
minute  and  get  you  a  J       wine." 

She  made  one  small  haiid-gesture  of  protest,  but  I 
Ignored  it  I  dodged  in  for  my  hat.  descended  the 
stairs  to  the  street,  got  Benson  on  the  wire;  and  in- 
structed him  to  send  the  motor-hamper  and  two  bot- 
ties  of  Burgundy  to  me  at  once.  Then  I  called  up  St 
Lukes  Hospital    There,  strangely  enough,  I  was  re- 


THE  MAN  FROM  MEDICINE  HAT      133 

fused  all  information  as  to  Harriet  Walter's  condition. 
It  was  not  even  admitted,  in  fact,  that  she  was  at 
present  a  patient  at  that  institution. 

The  girl,  when  I  got  back,  was  sitting  in  a  roddng- 
chair  by  the  window.  She  seemed  neither  relieved  nor 
disturbed  by  my  return.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
blank  wall  opposite  her.  Her  colorless  face  showed 
only  too  plainly  that  this  shock  from  which  she  had 
suffered  had  left  her  indifferent  to  all  other  currents  of 
life,  as  though  every  further  stroke  of  fate  had  been 
rendered  insignificant.  She  did  not  even  turn  her  eyw 
when  I  carried  the  hamper  into  the  room  and  opened 
It  She  did  not  look  up  as  I  poured  the  wine  and  held 
a  glass  of  it  for  her  to  drink. 

She  sipped  at  it  absenUy,  brokenly,  remindrng  me  of 
a  bird  drinking  from  a  saucer-edge.  But  I  made  her 
take  more  of  it.  I  persisted,  until  I  could  see  a  famt 
and  shell-like  tinge  of  color  creep  into  her  chedcs. 

Then  she  looked  at  me,  for  the  first  time,  with  com- 
prehending and  strangely  grateful  eyes.  She  made  a 
move,  as  though  to  speak.  But  as  she  did  so  I  could 
see  the  quick  gush  of  tears  that  came  to  her  eyes  and 
her  gesture  of  hopelessness  as  she  looked  down  at  the 
newspaper  on  the  floor. 
"Oh,  I  want  to  die  I"  she  cried  brokenly  and  weakly. 

"I  want  to  die!" 

Her  words  both  startled  and  perplexed  me.  Here, 
within  a  few  hours'  time.  I  was  encountering  the  second 
young  person  who  seemed  tired  of  Ufe,  who  was  rea^ 
and  willing  to  end  it 

"What  has  happened?"  I  asked,  as  I  held  more  of 


MMHrH 


1 
1 


ill 


',ir| 


**^ 


*'/ 


134    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

AcBuiignindyoutforhcrtodrink.    Then  I  picked  up 
the  afternoon  paper  with  the  flaring  head-lines. 

She  pointed  with  an  unsteady  finger  to  the  paper  in 
my  hands.  ^^ 

*'Do  you  know  her?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  I  happen  to  know  her,"  I  admitted. 

"Have  you  known  her  long?"  asked  the  girl 

'Only  a  couple  of  years,"  I  answered.    "Since  she 
first  went  with  Frohman." 

The  possible  truth  flashed  over  me.    They  were  sis- 
ters    That  was  the  strange  fe  that  bound  them  to- 
geaier ;  one  the  open  and  flashing  and  opulent,  and  the 
other  the  broken  and  hidden  and  hopeless. 
"Do  you  know  Harriet  Walter?"  I  asked 

She  laughed  a  little,  forlornly,  bitterly.    The  wine.  I 
imagined,  had  rather  gone  to  her  head 

de^bi^o^^*' ^^^^*^' "  "^^  ^^^ '°'"^^** '^""^ 
She  was  stiU  shaken  and  ill,  I  could  see.  I  took  the 
Burgundy  glass  from  her  hand.  I  wanted  her  mind 
to  remain  lucid.  There  was  a  great  deal  for  me  stiU 
to  fathom. 

''And  they  say  she's  going  to  die  ?"  she  half  declami. 
fcUf  mquired,  as  her  eyes  searched  my  face. 
But  what  wiU  it  mean  to  you?"  I  demanded 

She  seemed  not  to  have  heard;  so  I  repeated  the 
<]uesti(m. 

thi7V^*^  ^  ^^"  '^*  '°^^'  "*^*  ^  **^  *'^- 

"Butwhy?"Iinsistcd. 

She  covered  her  &ce  with  her  hands. 


THE  MAi:  FROM  MEDICINE  HAT      i35 

"Oh.  I  can't  tell  you!"  she  moaned.     "I  can't 

explain."  . 

••But  there  must  be  some  good  and  defimte  reason 
why  this  young  woman's  death  should  end  cverythmg 

for  you."  .  . 

The  girl  looked  about  her,  Uke  a  Ufe-i»isoner  facmg 
the  four  blank  walls  of  a  cell  Her  face  was  without 
hope.    Nothing  but  utter  misery,  utter  despair,  was 

written  on  it 

Then  she  spoke,  not  directly  to  me,  but  more  as 
though  she  were  speaking  to  herself. 

"When  she  dies,  I  die  toot" 

I  demanded  to  know  what  this  meant  I  tned  to 
burrow  down  to  the  root  of  the  mystery.  But  my 
efforts  were  usdess.  I  could  wring  nothing  more  out 
of  the  unhappy  and  tragic-eyed  girl.  And  the  one 
thing  she  preferred  just  then,  I  realized,  was  soUtude. 

So  I  withdrew.  ^       ,.      *^ 

The  entire  situation,  however,  proved  rather  too 
much  for  me.  The  more  I  thought  it  over  the  more 
it  began  to  get  on  my  nerves.  So  I  determmed  on  a 
prompt  right-about-face.  I  decided  to  begin  at  the 
other  end  of  the  line. 

My  first  move  was  to  phone  for  the  car.  LatreiUe 
came  pron^tiy  enough,  but  with  a  look  of  sophisti- 
cation about  his  cynical  mouth  whidi  I  couldn't  hdp 

resenting. 
"St  Luke's  Hospital,"  I  told  him  as  I  stuped  into 

At  that  institutfon,  however,  I  was  agun  refused 
all  informatkm  as  to  the  condition  of  Hanfet  Waher.' 


!.   ^ 


|i:  ! 


'36    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

'Z,  ^  "y  .»^  I-rson  wa,  fa  the  h«pHaI. 

^T  .        J  'I*  "«'"  •*  ""O"  "f  her  condition." 

Th«  yonng  lady  seems  to  have  very  mmy  friends 

And^e  of  them  seem  to  be  ve,y  ^^  """^ 

What  do  yon  mean  by  that?"  I  demanded.    For 

'There's  another  of  these  friends  who've  been  in- 
^ZZT"'  ■"'•"  "'  "P-^  w^-.  •  *™,  o"f 

whUl!  Tl°™^.  *'""*"*  o^  «^'  "tolized  and 
wh  t^walW  temple  of  pafa  mnst  have  seen  my  s^rt 

^  to^r  "  "^  '^"'^  P^^  '^  For  it 
w»  *at  of  a  young  man  wearing  a  velour  hat  It 
^e  youti.  I  had  met  the  nigh7befo«  in  ZsJl 

;^  yon  hippen  to  Imow  that  man's  name?"  I  asked. 
ais^A  "  MaUot^^Jame,  M.IU»y."  was  a« 

I  i?^?  """  "'""  '""^  *<»«  '•«P«"fap  wans. 
I  w«  gW  to  g«  oat  to  the  street,  to  the  <^1S 

«d  the  d.«.  afternoon  sunlight    I  had  al«^  de- 
aded  on  my  next  step. 

Whefter  the  man  in  the  velour  hat  recogniied  me 
or  not,  I  could  not  say.    If  he  did  h.  <I™T^  ■        ! 

him.  although  he  showed  no  8UT,rise  as  I  did  so  W 
iiame.    It  was  not  until  I  point-blank  asked  if  he  had 


THE  MAN  FROM  MEDiaNE  HAT      137 

been  inquiring  about  Harriet  Walter  that  any  trace 
of  interest  came  into  his  face. 

He  rq>lied,  with  oonstderabie  ferocity,  that  he  had. 
One  glinipae  of  the  unsteady  fingers  and  twitching 
eyelids  showed  me  the  tensicm  under  whidi  he  was 
struggling.    I  felt  genuinely  sorry  for  hun. 

"I  happen  to  know  Miss  Walter/'  I  told  him,  "and  if  - 
you'll  be  so  good  as  to  step  in  nay  car,  I  can  tell  you 
anything  you  may  want  to  know." 

'Is  your  name  Adams?"  the  white-faced  youth  sud- 
denly donaiuied. 

"It  is  not,"  I  answered,  with  considerable  alacrity, 
for  his  face  was  not  pleasant  to  lock  at 

"Then  why  can  you  tell  me  what  I  want  tc.  know?" 
he  asked,  still  eying  me  with  open  hostility.  I  strug- 
gled to  keep  my  temper.  It  was  a  case  where  one  coukl 
afford  to  be  indulgoit 

"If  we  each  have  a  friend  in  this  lady,  it's  not  un- 
reasonable that  we  should  be  able  to  be  friends  our- 
selves," I  told  him.  "So  let's  dear  the  cobwebs  by 
a  spin  down-town." 

"Gasoline  won't  wash  my  particular  cobwebs  away," 
he  retorted.  There  was  something  likable  about  his 
audacious  young  f  ac^  even  under  its  cloud  of  bitter- 
ness. 

"Then  why  couldn't  you  dine  with  me,  at  a  very 
quiet  dub  of  mine?"  I  suggested.  "Or,  better  stiU, 
on  the  veranda  of  the  Clairemont,  where  we  can  talk 
together." 

He  hesitated  at  first,  but  under  my  pressure  he 
yidded,  and  we  both  got  in  the  car  and  swung  west- 


I 


138    THE  BiAN  WHO  COULDJTT  SLEEP 

J«nI.«KltIi«upRiverMdetothcaain«ioiit  There 
iil^^I^i^r"**™*'?^*'''*-*^'  overlooWng  the  river. 
And  there  I  exerted  a  dcm  of  whkh  I  had  ooce  beea 
proud,  m  ordering  a  dinner  which  I  thought  migfat 
appeal  to  the  poignantfy  unhappy  young  man  who  sat 
across  the  table  from  me.  I  couW  seeAat  he  w«  sSl 
^n""^  "^'  ^  now  and  then,  with  both  revolt 
a^suUen  bewiWerment  written  on  hi.  kan  young 

^^t^would  be  no  easy  matter,  I  knew,  to  XS 

ih2^fr^^r\  ^  ^"*  °^*  ^«  ^  «^  of 

them  J  he  suddenly  demanded.    I  noticed  that  he  had 
ah-eady  taken  his  third  drink  of  wine. 

"Why  should  I  thmk  that?" 

*Tye  had  enough  to  make  me  crazy  r  he  ejacuhted, 
with  that  abject  self-pity  which  marks  the  Lt  nS 
stone  on  the  avenue  of  hope. 

"Periiai»  I  could  help  you,-  I  suggested.  "Or  per- 
haps I  could  advise  you.**  *^ 

"What  good's  advice  when  you're  up  against  what 
I  m  up  agamstr  was  his  embittered  retort 

He  was  apparently  findmg  relief  in  the  Pommeiy. 
I  found  a  compensating  reKef  in  merely  behoWiii 

that  look  of  haunted  and  abject  misery  gomg  out^ 
young  eyes.  '  »    *s    tttwxaw 

"Then  ten  me  what  the  trouble  is,"  I  said 
^He  still  shook  his  head.    Then  he  suddenly  looked 

"How  long  have  you  known  Harriet  Walter?"  he 
asked. 

"From  the  time,"  I  toM  him,  after  a  momenfa 


THE  MAN  FROM  MEIHCINE  HAT     139 


thought,  **^rhea  ihe  first  tspptutd  for  the  Frah  Air 
Fund  »t  the  Plaza.  That  waa  about  two  ycm  tf©— 
when  the  first  went  with  Fidman." 

"I've  known  her  for  twenty  years  r*  was  the  youth's 
unexpected  exdamation.    '*We  grew  vp  togcUier,  out 

West" 

"Where  out  Westr  I  asked. 

'In  Medidne  Hat— 4hat's  a  Canadian  prairie  town." 

**But  she's  younger  than  you?" 

"Only  two  years.  She's  twenty^wo;  Tm  twenty- 
four.    She  chsmged  her  name  from  Wilson  to  Walter 

when  she  went  on  the  stage." 

"Then  you  are  dose  friends?"  I  ariced,  for  I  could 
see  the  wine  had  k)osened  his  reticent  young  tongue. 

"Friends  r  he  scoffed.  "I'm  Ae  man  she  promised 
to  marryr^ 

Here,  I  told  myself,  was  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish.  I 
knew  the  man  before  me  was  not  Adams.  Yet  it  was 
several  weds  now  since  Harriet  Walter's  engagement 
to  young  Ad»ns  had  been  dfidally  amuMmced.  And 
there  was  noting  unable  or  predaceous  about  tiie 
Harriet  Walter  I  had  known. 

"Would  you  mind  tdling  me  just  when  she  promised 
to  marry  you?"  I  asked.  "Remember,  this  is  not  pry- 
ing.   I'm  only  trying  to  get  bdiind  that  cobwdk" 

"She  i»ondsed  me  over  two  years  ago»"  he  answered 

me,  quite  c^ienly. 

"Definitely?"  I  insisted. 

"As  ddaite  as  pel  ai^  hdc  €0^  ffidee  It.  E^en  he- 
fore  she  gave  in,  before  die  gave  the  proniae,  we'd 
had  a  sort  of  understaiMfing.   That  w^s  before  I  made 


:i  I- 


! 


«♦>   THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

EL*l!!^^r'*v  "^  «*  Wot    She'd  come 

wouU  aake  .  g«,t  KtwM.    We  iJI  tried  to  keel  h^ 
f «»  It,  but  d»  «ad  it  WM  her  c««^  Iffi^ 

So  I  cBne  throiigh  to  New  Yofk  «Hl  „,«,d  to  ute 
•"T  b«k.  to  get  h«:  out  of  ril  th«  ««  oHlr  ^ 

a!^^  -^       "'™'  •■»•*««  for  one  year  more: 

I  ll*^^'*  ■**  ^""^  *•  «^  y«x>'v«  given  her?" 
I"^,  ,««nberin«:  the  .udden  f J?  uj^ 

«"» to  her,  the  n«ne  in  electrics  over  the  Bra^^ 

^^i^ra^'*-"^'^-- 

riZ  ^i,  .      ""•*^  «wo  yean,  irfter  she'd 

STto^      T^  '^''  «^«»  round  «Kl  pron^ 
wd  to  marry  this  man  Adamsr 

And  has  she  never  explained  ?" 

"Explained?    She  won't  see  me.    Shehadn»~„ 

^^hotet    ShewentofftoNa^^"!: 

P«^ded  she  doesn't  even  know  mt" 

Jl:r1Se-SL.^t,e«trX' 
-^^^ortreache^^i,^.^^"^ 

"And  what  did  >Tm  do?"  I  asked. 


THE  MAN  FROM  MEDICINE  HAT     141 


**WluiteoiildIdo?  I wtitod and trM again.  Ifdt 
that  if  I  could  only  Me  her  lace  to  face  ihe'd  be  able 
to  explain,  to  make  the  whole  thing  aeem  leaf  like 
intaniW." 
"And  the  wouldn't  even  lee  you,  meet  your 
'^otonce.  Something*!  let  her  agaimt  me;  tone- 
thing*!  changed  her.   She  never  used  to  be  that  aort— 

never r 
"And  you  inaist  all  thia  ia  without  fhyme  or  reaaon  ?" 

''Without  one  jot  of  reaaon.  Thaf  a  what  made  it 
iobopelesa.  And  laat  night  when  I  heard  of  this  acci- 
dent I  put  my  pride  in  my  pocket,  and  tried  still  again. 
It  was  the  same  thing  over  again.  They  seemed  to  take 
me  for  a  crank,  or  paranoeic  of  some  kind,  up  there 
at  the  hoapitaL  And  then  I  gave  t^  I  felt  I'd  about 
reached  the  end  of  my  rope  I  thought  it  all  over, 
quite  cafanly,  and  decided  to  end  everything.  I  walked 
the  streeu  half  the  night,  then  I  sat  down  and  deckled 
to  bkm  mf  braina  out  But  I  coukbi't  do  it  I  waa 
too  much  of  a  coward.    I  hadn't  the  courage." 

"That  woukl  have  been  very  fooUsh,"  waa  my  in- 
adecpiate  rq>ly,  for  at  a  bound  my  thoc^ts  went  back 
to  ^e  night  before  and  the  scene  in  die  square. 

"Well,  what  would  yon  have  done?"  was  the  prompt 
and  bitter  chidknge  of  the  unhappy  youA  fachig  me 

I  thought  for  a  momeitt  bdore  attempting  to 
anawer  him. 

"Why,"  I  temporized,  "I'd  have  tried  to  get  down 
to  the  root  of  the  mystery.  Fd  have  made  some  eftvt 
to  find  out  the  reason  for  it;  for  everything  aeems  to 
have  a  reason,  you  know." 


•at- 


141    THE  MAN  WHO  COUUWT  SLEEP 

2^'»  »  rewon."  be  declai^I. 
^^  mut  be,"  I  miUntained. 

H«  studifd  my  face  with  hi    tired  and  « 
two  broken  storici  tof^ther.    It  was  not  eX^ 

Imtewl  of  anweriiig  hir    I  loot.,,    p.  (!  -d  oy  _ 
oa  tan  Md  Mtad  mother  q«.tic«.  ^^ 

Teil  nw  this ;  i£  ftmt  a  m.  n^auM  .1^         .^.t. 
for  herr  ^^  «>   ou  stUI  ctre 

JJ^«««ited  the  qnesticm.  a    ^  w«s  af rai  f  he  woold. 

JWhat  concern  is  that  of  youn-'  ~ 'w*'**- 

Wall  this  things  a  niisnyte,  it's  ^mng  to  I    «». 

«»ceniofyonrF     ItoWhan.  5  «  l    some 

He  Itt     :me  M  do^  «leiK;e  for  a  rrmM.*.  *_ 

««-_.    ,  '»«w«.c  lor  a  mmite  or  two 

lie  al-  ays  aw^d  f or  Iim-     i^  —  4       ^  "■  *wo. 

^  M  ™a«rer  as  goit^  t  be  before  he  spoke 
"B»Jt  ifs  no  tise.  t's  aU  over  It',  nv^  !!•  V^ 
with.  Th#r-»»  ««*  •"  cr.  us  over  and  done 
wim.     liieres  not  even  i  raistake    bout  it** 

JTh«  ^  be    A.a  I'm  goin,  ..  H.^  ««  ^fcere 
"^^  ^  you  going  to  feKl  that  otttr  he 


THE  MAN  FROM  BIEmcmB  HAT      I43 


•*Ce«t«Ioi«wiAii»."Icfl«l»litiltL         . 
ly,  ;  mtle  fxdtttBy,  -uidhftta  o'doclc  to-oiglil  FB 
have  yomt  rcuon  for  your 

My  fltsli4ii-<h*fMi  cnttnulaim  wm  ihorter  Mv«a 
thM  I  had  expected.  The  tlnglNr  »«*  wtee-lUce 
wamith  soon  dii^pearcd.  A  rtactioo  ad  in.  once 
we  weie  out  In  the  cod  night  air.  And  in  that  ftac- 
tion  I  becan  to  lee  difficnities,  to  manhd  doofala 
and  mitgivinga. 

The  tu  iBckw  crept  over  me  tiiat,  aftfr  all,  I  might 
have  been  .aflong  to  a  man  with  a  sBgfatfy  tmbahnwid 
mind.  Driawon^  wdi  aa  Wa,  I  knew,  were  not  tm- 
comnoo.  There  were  pkmy  of  amiahle  cianiBa  who 
carried  lAout  lorae  fixed  conviction  of  Aeir  on»4ime 
intimate  ^iwdation  with  Ae  pent,  tfae^tttod  bdief 
that  they  are  the  oppreseed  and  wiiwngniied  Iricnda 

of  ear^'-  de<^ 

Yi-t  «  did  not  Jtogether  fiS  the  Wll;  it  coifld 
not  ex  iway  everything.    There  waa  itiU  the 

mystery  girl  in  Ae  Twenty-fourth  Street  rooro- 

fog-house        here  waa  stiU  the  enigma  of  two  per- 
sons dainung  to  be  Harriet  Walter. 

On  my  way  down  to  Aat  roomii**oose  an  idea 
occurred  to  me  It  prompted  me  to  atep  in  at  my 
dub  for  a  minute  or  two,  kavhig  Mallofy  in  the  car. 
Then  I  do<^  bade  to  the  readmg-room,  took  down 
from  its  Adf  a  Who's  Who  <m  ih*  Stage,  and 
turned  up  the  name  of  Harriet  Walter. 

There,  to  my  discomfiture,  I  read  tfiat 
Walter's  fanrfly  name  was  recorded  as  "K^^ 
instead  of  beii^  a  Canadian,  and  bom  and  I 


( 


144    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

lu  the  western  town  of  Medicine  Hat,  as  young  Mal- 
loiy  had  claimed,  her  birthplace  was  recorded  as  Lan- 
sing.  Michigan.    She  had  been  educated  at  the  Gilder 

at  the  Wh^Uey  Dramatic  School  in  New  York.  From 
tiiere  she  had  gone  on  the  stage,  taking  suaD  parts, 
birt  soon  convincing  her  management  that  she  waTci 
P^e  of  better  things.  In  little  over  a  year  she  had 
been  made  a  star  in  the  Broken  Ties  production. 

far^'rc^    t^  "  °''^^  after  all,  had  not  been  so 
cL^This'^U^"^"^^^-^^- 

It  was,  however,  too  late  to  tura  bacfe    And  there 
was  suD  the  other  «d^^^ 

I  «hmd  young  MaUoor  up  the  musty  stair,  to  my 
^rd-floor  room,  and  seated  hhn  with  a  dgar  and  a 
mgazine  be^een  those  four  bald  and  dq«.e.«ng  wans 
with  th«rsulphur<oIored  paper.  Then  1 1^  out- 
side,  «id  carefufly  closed  the  door  after  mTTto  I 
crossed  the  haH  to  the  girl's  room  and  knocked. 
^«*  wa^  «uwer,  so  I  opened  the  door  and 

^  ^r  i^.TuTf"***^-  A  lense  of  frus- 
tration, of  defeat,  of  helpl«s«»e«K  »wq*  through  me. 

This  wm.  followed  by  a  feeling  of  ate^TSJ^ 
sion  that  I  might,  after  aH,  be  too  late  ^^ 

I  cTOtted  tiie  room  with  a  sudden  premom'tion  of 
ewL  Then  I  turned  on  the  light  and  pulled  open 
the  top  drawer  of  the  chmti-covered  bureau  TThl^ 
lay  my  bank-note.  And  beside  it.  I  noticed,  with  a 
sense  of  relief,  still  Uiy  the  revoher. 

I  took  the  weapon  up  and  looked  it  over,  hesitat- 


THE  MAN  FROM  MEDIQNE  HAT     145 


ing  whether  or  not  to  unload  it  I  still  held  it  in  mjr 
hand,  staring  down  at  it,  when  I  heard  the  creak  of 
the  door  behind  me.  It  was  followed  by  a  sudden 
and  quite  audible  gasp  of  fris^t 

It  was  the  owner  of  the  room  herself,  I  saw,  the 
moment  I  swung  around.  It  was  not  so  mudi  terror 
in  her  eyes,  by  this  time,  as  sheer  surprise. 

"What  are  you  ddng  here?"  she 'asked,  with  a 
quaver  of  bewildennent 

"111  answer  that  when  you  answer  a  question  of 
mine,"  I  temporized,  as  I  held  the  revolver  up  before 
her.    **Where  did  you  get  thisr 

She  did  not  speak  for  a  second  or  two. 

**Why  are  you  spying  on  me  like  this?**  she  sud- 
denly demanded.  She  sank  into  a  chair,  pulling  ner- 
vott^  at  her  pair  of  worn  gloves. 

**Yoo  msist  on  knowing?"  I  asked. 

•Tve  a  right  to  know." 

"Because  you  are  not  Harriet  Walter,"  was  the 
answer  I  sent  bullet-like  at  her. 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  mine.  There  was  neither 
anger  nor  resentment  on  her  face.  All  I  could  see 
was  utter  weariness,  utter  tn^;edy. 

*'I  know,"  she  said.  She  spoke  very  qtdetly.  Some- 
thing in  her  voice  sent  a  stab  of  pity  through  me. 

•Tm  only  trymg  to  help  you,"  I  toM  her.  "I  only 
want  to  dear  t^  this  maddening  muddle." 

"You  can't,"  she  saM  very  simply.    «It*8  too  late." 

"It's  not  too  later  I  blindly  persisted. 
"What  do  you  kasm  ibo&t  it?"  was  her  Ustkss  and 
weary  retort 


146    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

•«wer      I  kixw  where  thi,  re»ol«r  aune  f ran,  j J 
jwi  came  to  using  it. 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.    Then  she 
dipped  them  to  her  side,  with  a  gesture  of  hopel^ 

^  "Oh  theyH  aU  know  now  !'*  she  moaned.  "I  knew 
It  would  come  some  day.  And  I  haven't  the  strength 
to  face  It— I  haven't  the  strength!" 

I  felt,  in  some  way,  that  the  moment  was  a  climactic 
one.  *-•••«,«*. 

"But  how  did  it  begin?"  I  asked  more  genthr,  as 

.n7l^  *^°  ^'*"  *^'"  **  ^«*  on  in  her  tired 
and  throaty  monotone.  "It  began  when  I  saw  I  was 
a  failure,  when  I  reaUzed  that  aU  was  useless,  that  I'd 
wade  a  mistake."  «»."««  x  a 

^^  "^r  ^  ^^^^^'  ^  in  the  dark. 
TJc  mistake  I  wasn't  brave  enough  to  face.    I 
thought  it  was  the  Ufe  I  was  made  f^.  that^d 

^  ri!;!!r*  "JL**^    Even  *e  couldn't  u^r. 
•tond.Ithottght    Then  they  let  me  come.    I  worked 

ojj  so  harf!   And  when  I  left  the  s^I  aiT^d 
jet  was  a  place  in  the  chorus.    I  was  ashamed  to  tell 

«V«^^Ioj,ghttopveitr      HekeptasWngnU 

defeat    I  still  thought  my  chanct  /ouM  come:  I  few* 
asking  for  more  time."  ^ 


THE  MAN  FROM  MEDICINE  HAT     i%7 

"And  then?"  I  prompted. 

"Then  I  couldn't  even  stay  at  the  work  I  had.  It 
became  impossible;  I  can't  tell  you  why.  Then  I  did 
anything,  from  extra  woik  with  movuig  pictures  to 
reader  in  the  City  Library  classes.  But  I  still  kept 
going  to  the  agencies,  to  the  Broadway  offices,  trying 
to  get  a  part  And  things  dragged  on  and  on.  And 
then  I  did  this,  this  awful  thing." 

"What  awful  thing?"  I  asked,  trying  to  bridge  the 
ever-recurring  brcaVs  in  her  thought  Bat  she  ignored 
the  interruption. 

**We'd  studied  together  in  the  same  classes  at  the 
Wheatley  School.  And  people  had  said  we  looked 
alike.  But  she  was  bom  for  that  sort  of  life,  for 
success.  As  I  went  down,  step  by  step,  she  went  up. 
He  wrote  me  Aat  I  nrast  be  getting  famous,  for  he'd 
seen  my  picture  on  a  magazine-cover.  It  was  hers.  I 
pretended  it  was  mine  I  pieteaded  I  was  doing  the 
things  she  was  dwng.  I  let  them  believe  I'd  taken  a 
new  name,  m  stage  name.  I  sent  them  papers  that  told 
of  her  success.  I  became  a  cheat,  an  impostor,  a  liv- 
ing lie— I  became  Harriet  Walterr 

At  last  the  light  had  come.  I  saw  everything  in  a 
flash.  I  suddenly  realized  the  perplexities  and  pro- 
f imdities  of  human  Hfe.  I  felt  shaken  by  a  sudden 
pity  for  these  two  bound  and  unhappy  spirits,  at  that 
moment  so  ctose  together,  yet  groping  so  foolishly  and 
perversdy  along  their  mote-iike  traik 

I  was  stin  thinking  of  the  irony  of  it  all,  of  tfie  two 
broken  and  km^  yotmg  five  even  i^  tfiat  moment 
umter  the  same  roof,  erased  mder  the  weif^  ci 


'm 


148    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

girl  m  the  chair  b^an  to  qieak  again. 

"It  wa.  terribfc,"  die  w«t  00,  in  her  passionate 
T^^r^  !»•  »«I  of  the  whole  comxiing  bUght 
LTl  ^J"*  "  "«*« "«~'  «<^  what  .^  w^ 
«use.    I  dreaded  ereiy  advance  dw  nade.    It  wasn't 

bhe  seemed  to  be  feeding  <m  m^  day  by  day,  month 
ly  month.  I  Imew  aU  the  tune  that  the  WgbJ'J^ 
ftetow^Ih^ltodric  Andnow.inadifferenTw^ 
:S'ur«StS?^*'™"~    Td«.  eveiythin^: 

"What  is  th«^  leftr  wu  fcr  forlorn  queor. 

Xife-.n  yoor  «al  Kfe  This  has  beo,  a  sort  of 
»^tmare,  but  now  ifs  o«r.  Now  you  can  go  bai 
and  begin  over  again.''  **    ^^ 

lJ''l^u^"^L  S^  ^'^•P^J  her  thin  hands  hope, 
lessly  together.   "And  there's  no  one  to  eo  ta" 

« ;™^lf"^L^  -^'^  w«ting%??^:^  start 
"  ^n^  "^L^^i*^  ^    Bntlsawnone. 

No.   »he  cned,  *1ie'd  hate  and  despise  me." 
'^fH^-  "*?  f~  ^"^  ^"^'  I  demanded. 

I  need  him,   she  sobWngfy  acknowledged.    **Ye»-. 
^.  I  alwayji  cared  for  him.    But  he'd  never  under- 
rtand.    He'd  never  fonive  me.     He'«  «^»- 
from  me."  ^^  *'*'*y 

"He's  watting  for  you,"  I  said, 
litoodteolr^ 
Then  I  sUpped  out  of  the  room. 


I 

s 

u 


i^ 


•t 


THE  MAN  FROM  MEDICINE  HAT     X49 

I  stepped  in  through  my  own  door  and  dosed  it 
after  me.  Young  Malloty,  with  his  watch  in  his  hand, 
swung  about  from  the  window  and  faced  me. 

"Well,  it's  ten  o'clock— and  nothing's  settled  r 

"It  is  settled,"  was  my  answer. 

I  led  him  across  the  quiet  hall  to  ^  half-lit  back 

room. 

I  saw  his  startled  and  groping  motion.  Then  I 
heard  his  ay  of  **Harriel"  and  her  answering  cry  of 
"Jamie"  as  the  white  face,  with  its  hunger  and  its 
hs^ipiiMSS,  kK^ced  up  into  his. 

Then  I  quietly  stepped  outside  and  closed  the  door, 
Icavmg  them  atone.  From  that  moment  I  was  an  out- 
sider, an  intruder.  My  part  was  over  and  done.  But 
the  sight  of  those  two  young  people,  in  each  other's 
arms,  made  my  thoughts  turn  back  to  Mary  Lockwood 
and  the  happiness  which  h^  oeen  lost  out  of  my  own 
life.  And  I  didn't  akep  so  well  that  night  as  I  had 
hoped  to. 


MHHI 


*>;. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   XHBSPEOACBABX.B  BUTLIl 

€€  A   RE  you  waiting  for  some  one,  sir?" 

^^  TTiat  question,  for  all  its  veneer  of 
fulness,  was  only  too  intently  a  message  of  dismissaL 
And  I  resented  it,  not  cnily  because  it  was  an  inq>erti- 
noice,  but  more  because  it  had  driven  out  of  my 
drowsy  brain  a  very  beautiful  picture  of  Mary  Lode- 
wood  as  she  stooped  over  an  old  Italian  table-cover 
embroidered  with  gold  gallocm. 

"Are  you  waitii^  for  iomt  one?"  rqteated  tiiat 
newly  arrived  all-n^t  waiter,  in  no  way  impressed 
by  my  silence. 

"I  am,"  I  announced  as  I  inspected  him  with  open 
disapproval  I  was  dreamily  wondering  why,  in  the 
name  of  common  sense,  waiters  always  dressed  in  si^ 
ridiculous  and  undecorative  neckties. 

This  particular  waiter,  however,  continued  to  re- 
gard me  out  of  a  fishy  and  cynical  eye.  Then  he 
lodced  at  the  clock.  Then  he  locked  at  my  empty 
wine-cooler,  plainly  an  advertisement  of  suq>ended 
CBCuIation  in  the  only  fluid  that  seemed  vital  to  him. 

'^as  it  a  lady?"  he  had  the  effrontery  to  inquire. 

I  could  see  his  eyes  rcMun  about  the  adl  but  entity 
room.  It  was  the  low-efab  hour  when  a  trolley  car  is 
an  event  along  the  empty  street,  die  hour  when  cf^isirs 
wrt  piled  on  caf^  taUes,  the  white  corpuscles  ot  the 

150 


THE  IRREPROACHAilLE  BUTLER     151 

milk  wagoni  begin  to  move  ib  mgh  the  dty'i  ileeiiy 
arteries,  and  tiiose  fteel  nerves  known  m  telegraph 
wires  keep  langmdly  awake  with  the  sugary  thriUs  of 
their  night  letters. 

"Yes.  it  wa  dy,**  I  answered  That  wall-eyed 
intruder  knew  ting  of  the  heavenly  supper  I  had 
stumbled  on  in  timt  wicked  French  restaurant,  or  of 
the  fine  and  firm  aw  r<Migw*  that  had  been  unearned 
from  iu  shabby  cellar,  or  of  my  own  peace  of  mind  as 

I  sat  there  studying  the  empty  metal  cooler  and  pon- 
dering how  the  mean  and  scabby  wastes  of  Champagne 
could  mother  an  ichor  so  rich  wiA  singmg  etherealities. 

"Er— J««*  '*•*  °**8*»t  ■**  *<>*  ^**»  sir?**  my  tor- 
mentor next  adced  of  me,  blinking  about  in  a  kwse 
and  largely  condoning  matter-of-factness  as  though  in 
placid  search  of  some  plumed  and  hnpeticnt  demirep 
awaitmg  her  diance  to  cross  the  bar  of  acqnamtance- 
ship  on  the  cardcss  high  tide  of  inebriacy. 

"She  moves  very,  very  quietly,  and  has  a  star  in  her 
hak,"  I  replied  to  that  fiih-eyed  waiter.  "Her  breath 
is  soft  and  dewy,  and  her  brow  is  hooded.  And  'm 
her  hwds  she  carries  a  spny  of  poppJes." 

The  waiter  kicked  down  at  ase  with  tiiat  hi^ersoaal 
mikl  pity  with  wWch  it  is  man's  wont  to  ww  the 
liarmlessly  insane. 

«Sa^."  I  sirfd  w^  a  smoAered  yawn,  "sur^ 
you  him  oNt  hsr?    S«^  3PCNI  have  been  coaackws 

of  those  soft  and  sfaadowf  V^  fuNr  ^^o  T^on  •• 
y«a  HMitad  iBl»  her  afnir 

**Q^bt  so,  sir,"  uneas%^  ai&itt^  «^  wafi-eyed 
ffknd.    Then  I  began  to  retfae  Aat  he  was  waking 


Li- 


iSa    THE  MAN  WHO  CXHJLDNT  SLEEP 

«M  ^  I  gfw  fdtffiil  lest  hit  devMtirtiM  invMlPB 
•hoiiW  frigfatm  away  the  ttmoroot  qnrit  I  had  btn^ 
wooiiv  as  attklixmsfy  at  an  angler  wddqff  hit  fim 
troutR».oiiek»ghoiir,witha£tiBbodyaiid«B 
^  h«d,  I  had  «t  there  rtaBdnt  d«p  „  artfully 
a»da.arduoittlyathantimaiiever«talkedadeer.  And 

Iknew  that  if  I  moved  from  that  tpot  the  chaie  would 
be  over,  for  that  nig^it  at  least 

«s  J'Sl!!*^  ***"  ^  "^^^  **^'*  ^  *«««^  «I^ 

coy.  She  denies  herself  to  those  who  most  passiooately  i 
demandher.  Yet  something  tells  me  that  she  is  hover- 
ing near  me  at  this  moment,  that  she  is  about  to  bend 
ovarme  with  those  ineflftOrfe  eyes  if  only  I  await  the 
golden  mottwit  And  so,  my  dear  sir,  if  you  will  take 
Ais  as  a  shght  reward  for  your  trouble^  and  cover 

to  exceedingly  soUed-looking  divan  in  that  exceed- 

«n«rfy  disrqmtaWe^ookkig  alcove  with  a  dean  table. 

doth,  and  then  draw  that  curtain  which  is  apparently 
dengned  to  comrert  it  into  a  dbi»6f»  ^^^ 

wiU  be  giving  me  a  chance  to  consort  with  an  amd  of 
fi^ousness  more  lovefy  than  a,^  meietricicwhLl 
to  ever  soUed  its  fcMkd  ptadi.   And  if  I  am  kft^ 

interrupted  until  you  go  oflf  In  the  mowiifc  wur  r». 
ward  will  then  be  doubled."  -— *  yw  t».     , 

v,r"J^*l^»*»*'^»"'»l««ddownatd«i     i 
bill  m  his  hand,  that  if  this  indeed  were  madness,  toe 
wasanntpq,ug,antsortofmethodmit  ^ 

SohesetaboutinahalfdasedfiwhSoiidiwImrtiat  ^ 
none  too  dean  divan  with  a  fe&le<lo&.  maSTk  " 
act,  lode  uncomfortably  like  a  bier.    ThtthT 


MBI 


J 


THE  IRREPROACHABLE  BUTLER     IS3 

my  iMit  and  ftom  and  overcott  to  »  chiir  ^  tli«  foot 
ofthedhnn.   Thm  he  took  me  by  the  tnn,  fimify  and 

iolidtotttly. 

His  face,  at  I  made  my  i»ay  wHfaoat  one  ttagter  or 
Rd  into  tiiat  shabby  Kttle  qidetode  screened  off  from 
the  test  of  the  world,  was  a  stwfy  in  astonishment   It 

was  plain  Aat  I  poxried  him.  He  even  indn^  m  a 
second  wondering  j^ance  bade  al  Ae  *van  Mhedrew 
the  portiifes.  Then,  if  I  mistake  not,  he  uttoed  ttie 
<«e  explanatoty  and  sdf-ioffident  word-"NeedJe- 

pumper.  , 

I  heard  him  tiptoe  in.  a  few  mfawtet  later,  and  de- 
cenUy  cover  my  legs  with  the  overcoat  from  the  dttu^ 

I  did  not  speak,  for  bending  over  me  was  a  rarer  and 
sweeter  Presence,  and  I  wanted  no  sound  or  mo>vemert 

to  frighten  her  away.  Just  when  her  hand  toadied 
mine  I  can  not  tdL  Bull  f dl  off  into  a  deq»  »d 
natural  sleep  and  dreamed  I  was  bring  earned  throtyli 
SidUan  orange  fpront  by  a  wafl-^red  waiter  wim 

wings  like  a  butterfly.  t-«*«* 

Then  the  scene  dianged,  as  scenes  have  the  habit  of 

doing  in  dreams.  I  seemed  to  be  Ae  center  of  a  wh- 
cellar  conference  of  highwaymen,  presided  over  byUr 
treiUe  himsdf .  Then  the  voices  shifted  and  dianged, 
receded  and  advanced.  I  seemed  to  be  threading  that 
buffer^tato  wWdi  Ifcs  between  the  two  kingdoms  of 
Sleep  and  Wricefuteess.  the  birffer^rtate  tfiat  has  no 
dear-cut  outfines  and  twUuUk  ^  weevfl  between  ever- 


"Where's  Sir  '^ery."  said  a  voice  from  »  moan- 
taiB-tofk  Then  art  aasweiii^  uwrrniwr  9i  vok«  bnaasd 


154    THE  MAN  WHO  CX)ULDNT  SLraO* 

•boot  me  likt  beet,  oolj  an  imdHgiMe  nonl  or  two 
•eemiiig  to  remlbroe  tlie  fibrk  of  mj  iBMiyiningi  at 
iron  rods  remforcecoacrete-walls.  And  I  contiiiuid  to 
lie  there  in  that  plcannt  borderland  torpor,  which  it 
neither  wakefofaieit  nor  thnnber.  I  teemed  to  dost  on, 
in  no  ponderable  way  ditturbed  by  the  broken  horn  of 
talk  that  flkkered  and  wavered  throcgh  my  biafai. 

"Then  why  can't  Sir  Henry  work  on  the  Betmont 
jetbr*  one  of  the  voket  wat  addnf. 

**I  told  you  before,  Sir  Henry*!  tied  tipr"  another 
voiee  antwered. 

"What  doing?"  asked  the  first  voice. 

"He's  fixing  his  pfamt  lor  the  Van  Toy!  cot^"  was 
the  answer. 

"What  Van  Tuyl?" 

"Up  in  Seventy-third  Street  He^t  got  'em  hog 
tMd." 

"And  what's  more,"  broke  hi  a  third  voice,  "he 
won't  toodi  a  soup  case  since  he  got  that  safe-wedge 

in  the  wrist    It  kind  o' broke  his  nerve  for  the  nitro 
work." 

"Aw,  you  cottldn't  break  that  guy's  nerve  r 
"Well,  he  knows  he's  marked,  anyway." 
Then  came  a  hill,  foQowed  by  die  tcratdi  of  a  match 
and  the  mumbling  of  voices  again. 

"How'd  he  get  through  tiie  rc^iet  up  Aere?"  in- 
quired one  of  these  voices. 

"Same  dd  way.  Butlering.  Turk  McMeekin  doped 
him  up  a  half-doaen  London  recomm«dt.  That  got 
hhn  started  oeA  in  Morristown.  with  the  WUppeny 
Oub.   ThenhedytfwHerresfonl  job.    Bothers  get 


THE  IRREPROACHABLE  FJTLER     ISS 

a pewh with thU Van Tiiyl i«f.  Tli^ let Wmlock 
up%v«ry  iii^il--«afc"  Mid  O-Hwd  cwn^ 

bed  with  htor  

"It's  up  to  Sir  'Entry  to  make  em  dream  nea  tne 

real  thii^t"  muimiirwl  another  of  Aa  voket. 
"Surer  aniwered  itiU  another  voke  that  leeffled  » 

great  diftance  away. 
Then  the  mmnble  became  a  mnrmar  and  the  mw^ 

muradnme.    And  tha  drone  became  a  lilMnf  of 
birch  tofa.  and  I  waa  italking  Of-Horn  acroaa  moon. 

tain  peaka  o!  eafi  pairfmi,  where  a  pompooa^gH* 
buUer  eerved  pkhtt  MOw  on  tiie  edge  of  every  lec- 

ondpreci^oe; 

When  I  woke  up  it  waa  broad  dayUght.  and  my 
wall-ered  wito  waa  Aero  waitfag  for  hia  lecond  bin. 

And  I  remembered  that  I  oui^t  to  phone  Bewonw 
he  could  have  the  coffee  ready  Iqr  the  thne  I  walked 

home  through  the  meUow  November  air.  

It  waa  two  hoori  later  that  the  firat  memory  of 
those  murmuring  nridni^t  voicea  came  '•dc  tome. 
The  wordi  I  had  overheard  leemed  to  have  been  noma 

in  my  mind  like  leeda  in  the  ground.   Tlienhereand 
there  a  green  fhoot  of  iuspickm  emerged^The  nwre 

I  thou^  it  over,  the  more  disturbed  I  be«ne.  ^ 
I  warned  mytdf  that  I  could  be  smeof  nj^ 
one  tangibifity  waa  Oe  repeated  word,  "J^  TuyL 
And  there  at  kaat  waa  aometog  on  which  I  couM 

{oGua  tU9  attennon. 
I  went  to  Ae  tdephone  and  caBed  op  Beatopte  ^ 

Tuyl    Years  before  we  had  |byed  w^  p^  «« 
catboated  on  the  Sowid  together.    I  wiliaed,  aa  I 


I 


156    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

heard  tliat  jonof  mttroa'f  cheery  voice  over  the  tele- 
phone wire,  that  I  would  hairc  to  pick  my  steps  with 
care; 

"I  my,  Beatrice,  are  you  poariUy  hi  need  of  a  hiii- 
lerr  I  began  at  offhandedly  at  I  was  able. 

"Out  of  a  place,  Witter  dearr  waa  the  chuckling 
inquiry  that  came  to  me. 

''No,  I'm  not,  but  I  know  of  a  good  man,"  was  my 
mendacious  reply.    "And  I  rather  thought—" 

"My  dear  Witter,**  said  the  vofce  over  the  wire, 
"we've  a  jewel  of  a  man  up  here.  He's  English,  you 
know.  And  Tm  beginning  to  8'i?pect  he^s  been  with 
royalty.  Jim's  always  wanted  to  stick  pins  in  his  legs 
to  see  if  he  really  isn't  petrified." 

'•What's  his  name?" 

'Just  what  it  ought  to  be— the  most  apf.<^ate 
name  of  WiBrins." 

*How  long  have  you  had  him?" 

"Oh,  wedcs  and  weeks!"   Only  a  New  York  house 
holder  couM  understand  the  tone  of  triumph  m  that 
retort 

"And  you're  sure  of  hhn  hi  every  way?" 

"Of  course  we're  sure  of  him.    He's  been  a  Gibral- 
tar of  dependability." 
"Where  ^  you  get  him  fromr 

"From  Morristown.  He  was  at  the  Whippeny  Qub 
out  there  before  he  came  to  us." 

"The  Whippeny  Oub!"  I  cried,  for  the  name  struck 
like  a  bullet  on  the  metal  of  memory. 

"Don't  you  think,"  the  voice  over  the  wire  was  say- 
ing, "that  you'd  better  come  up  for  dinner  to-night  and 


THB  IRREPROACHAaLE  BUTLER     i$7 

inipect  the  pmm  i*  <*>••  «*•'    ^^  3r«»  n»i|^ 
talk  to  tts  a  ttt«i^  tetwccii  wfaUcs." 

"I'd  tove  to,"  w«a  my  very  prompt  reply. 

"Then do,"  laid  Bentriee Van Tiqrl.   "Alittletfter 

•even." 

And  a  little  after  ieven  I  <My  rang  the  Van  Tuyli* 
door-beU  and  wat  duly  admitted  to  that  orderly  and 
weU-appointed  Seventy-third  Street  hou«,  to  like  a 
thousand  other  orderly  and  mtSk-t^ipointtd  New  York 
houMs  hidden  bditnd  their  unchanging  madcs  of  brown 

and  gray. 

Yet  I  cottkl  not  help  feeling  the  vuhierabthty  of  that 
apparency  wett-goarded  home.    For  aU  ita  walk  of 
stone  and  b.  idc  f  or  all  the  iteel  grilla  that  covered  ita 
windowa  and  the  heavy  acrdl  work  that  protected  ita 
glaaa  door,  it  remained  a  place  munificently  ripe  for 
puMkr.    Ita  aolidity.  I  felt,  was  only  a  mockery.    It 
11,  de  me  think  of  a  fortress  that  had  been  secretly 
mined.    lu  occupanto  aeemed  baskkig  hi  a  fake  §•• 
curity.    The  very  inatrumenta  which  went  to  insorc 
that  security  were  actnalfy  a  menace.    The  very  wmr 
chinery  oi    er/ic«  which  made  poattble  ita  ctoistral 
tranquilUty  hdd  the  factor  for  ita  diaraptkm. 

As  I  surrendered  my  hat  and  coat  and  aacended  to 
that  second  fioor  where  I  had  known  so  many  sedately 
happy  hours,  I  for  once  f oond  myaelf  diaqnieted  by 
its  flower-kden  atmo^here.  I  began  to  be  oppressed 
by  a  new  and  disturb  sense  of  responsibility.  It 
wo  Id  be  no  lif^  matter,  I  began  to  see,  to  o^kxle 
a  oomb  of  dksension  in  that  prmc^ty  oi  ahnoet  ar- 
rogant atoolneas.    It  iwdd  te  no  joke  to  confoond 


iS8    THE  MAN  WHO  COULpNT  SLEEP 

that  smoothly  flowing  routine  with  which  nitan  wetlA 
so  jealously  surrounds  itself. 

I  suddenly  remembered  there  was  nothing  hi  wUch 
I  could  be  positive,  nothing  on  which  I  could  wifli  cer- 
tainty rely.  And  my  inward  disquiet  was  increased,  if 
anything,  by  the  cahn  and  blithely  contented  gbnce 
Beatrice  Van  Tuyl  leveled  at  m& 

''And  what's  all  this  ni3rstery  abottt  our  man  Wil- 
kinsr '  she  asked  me,  with  the  immediacy  of  her  sex. 

"Won't  you  let  me  answer  diat  question  a  little  hter 
in  the  evening?" 

"But,  my  dear  Witter,  that's  hardly  fair!'*  die  pro- 
tested, as  she  held  a  lighted  match  for  her  hosfaand's 
cigarette.  *T>o  you  know,  I  actually  b^eve  you've 
spotted  some  one  you  want  to  supfdant  WiOdnt  with." 

"Heas©-" 

"Or  did  he  spin  aoop  on  yon  some  tfane  when  we 
didn't  see  it^ 

"I  imagfaie  he^s  spilt  a  bit  of  soi^in  his  day,"  I  an- 
swered, remembering  what  I  had  overheard  as  to  the 
safe  wedge.  And  as  I  spoke  I  realised  tbrt  ny  one 
hope  hy  in  the  possibility  of  gettmg  a  glfanpee  of  the 
mark  which  that  wedge  had  left>4f ,  indeed,  my  whole 
sand-chain  of  coincidences  did  not  split  back  Into  the 
inconsequentiafities  of  dreandand. 

"You  can't  shake  my  faith  hi  WiUns,"  mU  tiM 
blue-eyed  woman  In  tiie  blue  dBc  dhmer  gown,  at  Ae 
leaned  back  in  a  protecttog^armed  and  aoMy  padded 
library<hair  whkli  suddenly  becma  sjmibollc  of  her 
whole  guarded  and  opliolslered  life.  "Jfan,  teH  Witter 
what  a  jewel  WiOdni  rsal^  {■.* 


^j^^_im^ 


mum 


THE  IRREPROACHABLE  BUTLER     I59 

Jim,  whoM  flitwfcht  WM  hawy  ofdnmce  bokle  hit 
wife't  flying  cdlttinn  of  hnmor,  turned  th*  matter 
sokmnly  over  in  hb  minA 

"He's  a  remarioWy  good  »»,"  admitted  the  stolid 
and  leviticaljini,  "remarkably  good." 

"And  you've  teen  him  yourtelf,  time  and  time 
again,"  concurred  his  wile. 

"Birt  Fve  new  been  pwtiatoriy  intereited  in  ser- 
vants, yon  knoir,"  waa  my  aetf-defentire  retort 

"Then  why,  in  the  face  of  the  Immortal  Ironies,  are 
you  pottfaig  my  butler  under  Ae  roicroacoper  was  fee 
rttum  shot  that  came  from  the  flying  cohmm.  The 
acidulated  sweetness  of  that  attack  e¥«i  nettled  me 
into  a  right-about-face.  ^         u^u       i 

**Look  here,"  I  sndde^  demanded,  "have  either  of 
you  missed  anything  valuable  about  here  latdyr 

The  two  gsiaed  at  eadi  other  lor  a  moment  m  per. 

pkxed  wonder.  ^  «__ 

"Of  course  not,"  retorted  the  woman  m  the  dimier 

gown.  '"Noiathfaigr 
"And  you  know  you  have  cyerydiing  intact,  an  y«g 

jewdry,  your  piale.  your  poekediooka,  Ae  trhfcrta  a 
soeaktUel  tti^it  caS  it  worA  while  to  round  «pr 
"Ofeowaewehcve;   And  I  cMi*t  even  tewnt  your 

"BntaroyoneMteolthb?  Couldyett  veilfr  it 

at  a  Momsifs  notef  

my  dear  Witter,  we  weiddD*t  need  t^    *  ■■— 
w^redofaig  it  every  diqrolonrfiveB.   It'i  taitinitfw; 

if aaa  awii  «hM  ukM^iBt  no^  <»»  <^  <>»  <^B^ 
aM  colHNbt  ont  of  tbi 


MliBHIli 


n 


f'^" 


i$ 


i6o    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

"What's  tnaking  you  aak  aU  Aii?*'  demanded  the 
heavy  artiUety. 

"Yes,  what's  suddenly  making  you  into  a  Holmei't 
watchman?"  echoed  the  flying  brigade. 

Still  again  I  saw  that  it  was  going  to  be  no  easy 
thing  to  intimate  to  persons  you  cared  for  the  possi- 
bility of  their  sleeping  on  a  volcano.  Such  an  intima- 
tion has  both  its  dangers  and  its  responsibilitiea.  My 
earlier  sense  of  delight  in  a  knowledge  unpertidpated 
in  by  otfiers  was  gradually  merging  into  a  conscious- 
ness of  a  disagreeable  task  tfiat  would  prove  unsavory 
in  both  its  features  and  its  finale. 

"I'm  asking  all  this,"  I  replied,  "because  I  have  good 
reason  to  bcKeve  this  paragon  you  call  Wilkins  is  not 
only  a  criminal,  but  has  come  into  this  houw  for 
criminal  purposes." 

"For  what  criminal  purposes?" 

"For  the  sake  of  robbing  it" 

Beatrice  Van  Tuyl  looked  at  me  with  her  wide-open 
•zan  eyes.  Then  she  sudd^  bubbled  over  with 
golden  and  fiquid-noted  laughter.  "Oh,  Witter,  yoa*tm 
lovely  r 

"What  proof  have  yon  got  of  Aatr  demanded  Jim. 

"Of  my  loveUness?"  I  inquired,  for  Jim  Van  Tuyl's 
soHdity  was  as  provocative  as  that  of  the  sn^thy  anvil 
which  the  idler  can  not  pass  without  at  least  *  hammer, 
taportwo.  Yet  it  was  this  same  soBdity,  I  knew,  that 
made  him  the  safest  of  financiers  and  tiie  ihrewdeat 
of  inveMorib 

"No,"  he  retorted,  "proofs  of  the  ftct  that  WiBdnt 
ii  here  for  other  than  honert  pitrprmi." 


liiiili 


THE  IRREPROAaiABLE  BUTLER     i6§ 


•Tve  no  proof,"  I  had  to  confcM. 
•«Then  what  cndence  have  ycnt* 
•Tve  not  ev«  any  etidenoe  aa  yet    But  Fm  not 
ttirring  up  thU  sort  of  thing  without  good  rea«Hi." 

"Let'i  hope  not!"  retorted  Jim. 

**My  dear  Witter,  you're  actuaSy  getting  fussy  in 
youi  old  age,"  «aid  the  laughing  woaan.  It  was  only 
the  sotonmity  of  her  husband's  face  that  seemed  to 
sober  her.  "Can't  yo«  see  it's  absurd?  We're  aU 
here,  safe  and  so^nd,  and  we  haven't  been  robbed  " 

•*But  what  I  want  to  kaaw,"  yreai  on  the  heavier 
artilkry,  "is  what  your  reasons  are  It  aeems  only 
right  we  sboidd  inqpiire  what  you've  got  in  the  shape 

of  cvideooi.'' 
"What  I  h«»e  wotddal  be  admitted  as  evidence,"  I 

cotifeaBed. 
He  threw  down  his  di^arette.    It  meant  as  much  as 

throwiBg  up  his  hinds. 
**Then  whitf  do  you  expect  ua  to  dor 
"I  doi^t  expaet  yoa  to  do  wything.    AD  I  ask  is 
that  yott  kt  me  try  to  justify  iib  cowto  Tm  taken, 
thatthcAfeeofu8<&i«tBirtytoiidier.   Aadunkss 
I'm  greatly  nrfstolcen,  befof*  Ai*^«w«r  li  ewl  think 

I  can  show  you  &at  tiiis  flHA— * 

I  saw  Be^rice  V«i  Tuyl  sndiniy  Vxh  a  fo«fing«r 
to  her  lip.  The  motioB  tor  ailiMe  bf«#t  ak  i^ 
short  A  moment  hter  I  fci«i  ite  wi^  ol  a  Ui^- 
switch  in  the  haSway  oaMidt  and  Aaii  Ae  <«*  of 
jade  curtain-rings  on  Ae?.r  pole.  kMo  Ae  doorw^ 
stepped  a  figure  in  bk«k,  a  afai  tad  ilow-aiovlif  md 

altogether  sdf-asaured  fipnc 


^tm* 


mmmM 


i6a    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

"Dinner  is  served."  intoned  this  sober  personnge, 
with  a  curate-like  solemnity  all  his  own. 

I  had  no  wish  to  g^ie  at  the  man.  but  that  first 
fiimpse  of  mine  was  a  sharp  one,  for  I  knew  that  It 
was  Wllkins  himself  that  I  was  confronting.  As  I 
beheld  him  there  in  all  the  g)ory  of  his  mafisterial  aa- 
surance  I  felt  an  involuntaiy  and  ridiculous  sfaddng  in 
the  diaphragm.  I  asked  myself  in  the  name  of  all  the 
Lares  and  Penates  of  Manhattan,  why  I  had  suddenly 
.gone  oflF  on  a  wiM-goose  chase  to  bag  an  inoffensive 
butler  about  whom  I  had  had  a  midnight  nightmare? 

Then  I  k)oked  at  the  man  more  ck>sely.  He  wof« 
the  conventional  dress  Uvery  of  twilled  worsted,  with  an 
extremely  high-winged  collar  and  an  extremely  small 
lawn  tie.  He  seemed  a  remarkably  solid  figure  of  a 
Plan,  and  his  height  was  not  insignificant  Any  im- 
pression of  fragility,  of  sedentary  Uoodlessness,  which 
might  have  been  given  out  by  his  quite  pallid  face, 
was  sharply  contradicted  by  the  muscukr  heaviness  of 
his  limbs.  His  hair,  a  Kyrle-Bellewish  gray  over  the 
temples,  was  cut  short  The  well-powdered  and  ctese- 
shaven  face  was  Uuish  white  aUmg  the  jowls,  Uke  a 
priest's.  The  poise  of  the  figure,  whether  natural  or 
simuUted,  was  one  marked  for  servitude. 

Yet  I  had  to  admit  to  myself,  as  we  filed  out  and 
down  to  the  dining-room,  that  the  man  was  not  with- 
out his  pretended  sense  of  dignity.  He  seemed  neitiHr 
arrogant  nor  obsequious.  He  hovered  midway  betwan 
the  Scylla  of  hauteur  and  the  Charybdis  of  cooskletila 
pttience.  About  the  immobile  and  mask-fike  faee  hiav 
that  veil  of  impersonaUty  which  marked  hfan  at  a  bul- 


II J 


THE  IRREPROACHABLE  BUTLER      165 

Icr— «•  a  botler  to  the  Bnger-tips.  When  not  actually 
in  movement  he  was  as  aloofly  detached  as  a  totem- 
pole  He  stood  as  unobtrusive  as  a  newel-post,  as  im- 
passive as  some  shielding  piece  of  fumiture.  beside 
which  youth  might  whisper  its  weightiest  secret  or  con- 
spiracy weare  iu  darkest  web. 

I  had  to  confess,  as  I  watched  his  deft  movements 
about  that  chinarstrewn  oblong  of  damask  which 
seemed  his  fit  and  rightful  domain,  that  he  was  m  no 
way  wanting  in  the  part— the  only  thing  that  puzzled 
me  was  the  futility  of  that  part.   There  was  authority, 
too,  in  his  merest  finger-movement  and  eye-shift,  as 
from  time  to  time  he  signaled  to  the  footman  who 
helped  him  in  Ws  duties.    There  was  grave  soUcitude 
on  his  face  as  he  awaited  the  minutest  semaphonc  nod 
of  the  woman  m  the  blue  silk  dinner  gown.    And  this 
was  the  man,  with  his  stoUd  air  of  exactitude,  with  hi» 
quick-handed  movements  and  his  akrt  and  yet  unpar- 
ticipating  eyes,  whom  I  had  come  into  that  quiet  house- 
hold  to  proclaim  a  thief  I 

I  watched  his  hands  every  course  ••  I  sat  there 
talking  against  time-and  Heaven  knows  what  I  Ulked 
of!  But  about  those  hwds  there  was  nothing  to  di». 
cover.  In  the  first  thing  of  importance  I  had  met 
with  disappointment.  For  the  cuffs  that  projected 
from  the  edges  of  the  livery  sleeves  covered  each  large- 
boned  wrist  In  the  actual  deportment  of  the  man 
there  was  nothing  on  which  to  base  a  decent  suspiaon. 
And  to  the  meanwhile  the  dinner  progressed,  as  aH 
such  dinners  do.  smoothly  and  quietly,  and,  to  outward 
appearances,  harmoniously  and  happily. 


iMHii 


1^4    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

,°^.  "  «*  progressed  I  grew  more  and  more  per- 
ptaMd.  There  was  another  nauseating  moment  or  two 
when  the  thought  flashed  over  me  that  the  whole  thing 

waa  iniKd  a  mistate,  Aift  whK  I  iMid  teemed  to  hew 
m  m^  restless  moments  of  the  m^  before  was  only 
a  dream  projected  into  a  pviod  of  wakefubiesa. 
Equipped  with  nothing  tmm  titon  an  echo  from  thta 
dream,  I  had  started  off  on  thia  mad  cfaase^  t»  nm 
down  a^man  who  had  proved  and  was  pt^ng  h»»e!f 
the  acme  of  decorovs  reqiectability. 

But  if  thia  thought  was  a  sichenhig  OIK,  it  was  also 
asickfyoi^.  lAe  dl  siddy  things  too.  it  tended  to 
dieyoung.  It  went  down  before  Ae crowdii^ actuali- 
zes of  other  c»ctioisia«es  which  I  could  not  overlook. 

Coincidence,  repeated  often  enoi^  becMK  more  than 
fortuity.  The  thh^  was  more  than  a  nightmare.  I 
had  heard  what  I  had  heard.  There  was  still  some 
mrthod  by  which  I  could  verify  or  contradict  my  sus- 
pMaon.  My  proWem  was  to  And  a  plan.  And  the 
gravity  of  my  dilemma,  I  suppose,  was  m  some  way 
reflected  m  my  face. 

"Well,  what  are  you  gobg  to  do  about  it?"  asked 
Van  Tuyl,  with  his  heavy  matter-of-factness,  at  a  mo- 
ment when  the  room  happened  to  be  en^>ty. 

"Don't  you  see  it's  a  mistake?"  added  his  wife,  with 
a  self-assuring  glance  about  the  rose-shaded  table  and 
then  a  wider  glance  about  the  room  Itsdf 

"Wait,"  I  suddenly  said.  "What  were  his  refers 
enees?^ 

"H«  gave  us  a  qilendid  one  from  the  WUmair 
ChU    W.«ri&da»fc    Th«,  he  tad  het«!Trf 


nr- 

wo 

n? 

mr 

ik 

HI 
If 

O 

o 
I- 

c 
n 
I 

e 

t 

r 


THE  IRREPROACHABLE  BUTLER     163 

them  from  tome  vtry  d«ent  people  in  London.    One 

of  them  was  a  bishop." 
"Did  yoa  verify  thoeer 
"Across  the  Atlantic  Witter?   It  really  <ti(to*t  seem 

worthwhile!" 
"And  it's  bdcy  for  hhn  you  didn't  r 
"Wl^r 

"Because  Ae/re  forgeries,  every  one  of  them! 
''Whal  ground  have  you  for  Ataidng  thi^?"  aAed 

tiie  sotemn  Van  Tuj^ 

"I  don't  Atric  it— I  know  It  And,  I  unagine,  I  can 
tell  you  the  name  of  the  man  who  forged  them  for 
htm* 

"Wdi,  whm  Is  itr 

*'A  worthy  fay  themme  of  Turk  IkMcchki.'' 
Van  Tuyl  sat  up  wUh  »  heavy  purpose  on  his  honest 

and  unhn^^native  face. 

"We've  had  a  1^  lot  d  ti^  niyilery.  Witter,  but 
we've  got  to  get  to  the  wd  of  it  Teamewhatyou 
know,  everythhig.  and  W  have  Wm  hi  here  and  face 
hirawMiit   Now,  what  is  Aere  beside  tiie  Turk  Mo- 

Meeklnitemr 

"Not  yetr  imnnmrrf  Bnttiee  Van  Tt^  warn- 
iagly,  as  Wiadns  and  Ws  MMWik*  face  a*paneed  urt» 

I  had  the  lee&ig,  as  he  senred  us  wlii  •■•  d  tinee 
ddedable  ices  wWeb  make  even  the  ^Mwwrism  of 
the  Cynnaka  tame  hi  mUroiiHl.  A*  e*  ^"'**^ 
ia»rai^  eoMpiikig  ifidiMl  our  aw  ■•lilng;  Asi 
vre were deflu riiiiig ommm petae ^-w^lA  Wewere 
sitthig  th«a  adMBNgiavBift  iIm  ipMr  iAese  sole 


^amuaiammimum 


■iiiliiiiii 


hi 


i66    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

functioa  wu  to  minister  to  oor  ddijj^itt.  AadlcouU 
not  help  wondering  why,  if  the  nui  wat  hideed  wfam 

I  nispected,  he  choee  to  loltow  the  moit  pracarioas  and 
the  moit  ill-paid  of  aU  proftnioM,  I  found  it  hard 
to  persuade  myself  that  behind  that  stolid  bhie-wbte 
maslc  of  a  face  could  flidier  any  wayward  sfiirit  of  ad- 
veiUMW  and  yet  without  that  ^nrit  ny  wbok  case 
was  a  card  house  of  absurdities. 

I  noticed  that  for  the  first  time  Bcatriee  Van  Tnyri 
own  eyes  dwelt  with  a  quick  and  searchhy  look  oa 
her  servant's  immobile  iMe.  Then  I  felt  her  equally 
searcfaiiqf  gate  directed  at  me.  I  knew  that  my  f  aihm 
to  make  good  would  meet  with  scant  forgiveness.  She 
wouM  demand  knowledge,  even  though  it  led  to  the 
discovery  of  the  volcano's  imminence.  And  after  so 
much  smoke  it  was  plamly  my  duty  to  show  where  the 
fire  hiy. 

I  seized  the  conversation  by  the  tail,  at  it  were,  and 
dracged  it  bade  into  the  avenues  of  ineonstqucntia^. 
We  sat  there,  the  three  of  us,  actually  making  talc  for 
the  sdK  of  a  putty-laced  servant  I  noticid,  tiiough, 
that  as  he  rounded  the  table  he  repeatedly  feO  under 
the  qiadify  questioning  gaze  of  both  his  master  and 
mistress.    I  began  to  feel  like  an  lago  who  had  wOl- 

funyp(^uted  a  dovecote  of  hitherto  unshaken  trust  1^ 
became  harder  and  harder  to  keep  up  my  pretene  of 
artless  good  humor.  That  was  %ing,  nd  notitk^ 
had  as  yet  been  found  out 

"Now,"  denuMded  Van  Tiqrl,  wtaa  Ae  room  ww 
once  men  eaqMy,  '%hat  are  you  sore  of?" 

Tm  sure  of  aothi^'' I  had  to 


mm 


THE  IRREPROACHABLE  BUTLER     167 

•TThtti  what  do  you  propose  doinf  r  wt»  At  loint- 
what  arctic  faiqiiinr. 

I  glanced  up  at  «be  watt  wliere  Eaddah  Van  TvjU 
the  worthy  founder  of  the  American  l»raiich  of  te 
family,  frwmed  reproving^  down  at  me  over  Wi 
swatUng  blade  itock. 

"I  pfopoee,'*  waa  my  aniwer,  'lunring  yowr  great 
gnndfetber  op  there  let  na  know  whether  I  am  right 
or  whether  I  am  wrong." 

And  at  WiDdnt  stepped  into  Ae  room  I  rose  from 
the  table,  walked  over  to  the  heavy-framed  portratt,  and 

lifted  it  from  its  hook.  I  heW  Jt  there.  wiA  »  pretend 
of  studying  the  face  for  »  moment  or  two.  Then  I 
ptaced  mf  table  napUn  on  »  diair.  monnrM  .1  and 
made  an  mwicceaafnl  effort  to  rchang  the  |.vr  «it 

"If  yott  i^ease.  WiOdns."  I  said,  stm  holding  the 
picture  flat  agafaist  the  wall 

"A  Kttlc  hi^w,"  I  told  him,  as  I  strained  to  kwp 
the  eordbMsk  over  to  hook.  I  was  not  especially  soo- 
cessful  at  this,  beemne  at  the  time  my  eyes  were  di- 
rected toward  tiie  hands  of  the  man  holding  op  the 

picture. 

His  positkm  was  such  that  the  sleeves  of  his  Uack 
service  coat  were  drawn  »w»y  from  Ae  white  and 
heavy-boned  wrists.  And  thwe.  before  my  eyes,  acroea 
the  flexor  cords  of  the  ri|^  wrist  was  a  wide  and 
ragged  sear  at  least  three  inches  hi  kngtfi. 

I  returned  to  my  place  at  the  4kum  taUa.  Vm 
Tuyl,  by  this  time,  waa  fash«  1*  mt  wHh  boA  t^ 
■cntment  and  wondtr.  ^     ^^ 

••Shan  we  h«va  co«ea  np-iUtor  hb  w»  asieea 


i«   THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

•H«f^  pIcMt^"  I  Interpolitod. 

•Very  good»  nmdmC  he  mumtnd. 
'j;^o^«f*»  ••  X  wirtdMd  him  cfOM  the  room,  H 
he  i^tccted  aiqrthiiif.    I  abo  woodeml  how  hare- 

hriined  the  men  end  wowiii  iorted  It  the  trijie  thoiiilit 


m 


**Uam,**  I  said,  the  montiit  we  were  aloiie;  "hart 
J^^iMt  ho*  jrou  can  tnwt.  oiie  yoo  am  tnift 

"Of  coanc,"  annrnd  mv  hottesi. 
"Wholaitr 

"WiDdn^-waitheanwrer, 
"Not  coontiiif  WUkmsr 

"WdU  think  I  can  aho  tnirt  my  maid  FeUce--im. 
leie  you  know  her  better  than  I  do." 

I  couM  afford  to  ignore  the  thrust. 

JT!"?  rd  advi.e  you  to  tend  her  i^  to  look  over 
your  thmgs  at  once" 

]]Whydoyottiiythirtr 

"BecMite  now  I  know  thii  man  Wilkini  it  a  crimi- 
nal of  the  worst  typer 
"You  know  it  r 

J^**'/ iT' '*  ••  "^^  ■•  ^ '"^^  r«  «ittinf  at  this 
table.   And  I  can  prove  it" 

"How  r  demanded  Van  Tuyl 

"I'll  show  you  how  fa  a  very  few  moments.    And. 
on  second  thoughts,  Fd  have  that  maid  Felice  bri^ 


THE  IRREPROACHABLE  BUTLER     169 

triiat  yott  r^purd  u  vahiatde  right  to  tMs  diidng-rooiii 
—I  mtM  yoor  jewdt  and  Aing^** 

"But  this  foundt  10  tUfy,"  demumd  my  ttill  re- 
luctant hotteML 

"It  won't  iound  half  lo  aflly  at  a  Tiffany  advertise- 
nent  of  a  reward  and  no  qnettiont  aikcd." 

Beatrice  Van  Tuyl  mterceptcd  a  footman  and  sent 
him  off  for  the  maid  Feliee.  A  moment  later  WiBdna 
was  at  our  ikle  quietly  serving  the  eafi  nok  in  tiny 
gold-fined  ospa. 

<*Thb  method  of  mine  for  identifying  the  real  pearU 
at  you  win  tee."  I  blandly  went  00,  "it  a  very  timple 
one.  You  merely  take  a  matdi  end  and  dip  it  in  clear 
water.  Then  you  let  a  drop  of  water  fall  on  the  pearl 
If  the  ttone  it  an  fanitatioa  one  the  water-drop  win 
■pread  and  lie  dose  to  the  turface.  If  the  ttooe  it 
genuine  the  dmp  wiQ  ttand  high  and  rounded,  like  a 
globe  of  qukktitver,  and  win  thake  with  the  minute 
vibrationt  which  patt  throt«h  any  body  not  in  perfect 
equiUbrium." 

Before  I  had  completed  that  tpeech  the  maid  Fefice 
had  ttepped  into  the  room.  She  was  a  woman  of  about 
thirty,  white-skinned,  slender  of  figure,  and  decidedly 
foreign-kMking.  Her  face  was  a  clever  one,  though  I 
promptly  dithTcod  an  affectation  of  Umguor  with  whkh 
she  strove  to  hide  a  spirit  which  was  only  too  plafaily 

alert 
"I  want  you  to  fetch  my  jewel  case  from  Ae  boudoir 

safe,- her  mistress  toM  her.   -Bring  everything  in  the 

box," 
I  could  not  see  the  maid's  Ims,  for  at  tiiat  moment 


MKROCOrr  RtKXUTION  TBT  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  He.  7) 


|2^ 

l» 

I2A 
Itt 

|3j2 

■  22 

U 

Ib 

12.0 

•1PPLIED  IM/OE    Ine 

16S3  East  Main  Strttl 

Rochntw,  N*w  York        U609       USA 

(716)  482  -  0300  -  Phorw 

(716)  2M-5983-FOK 


P    ■    ■  s 

i 


w 


m    i^^ 


V 


II 


*11 


170    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

I  was  busy  watehing  Wakm  From  that  wortltr. 
however,  came  no  slightest  sign  of  disturbance  or 
wonder. 

"Here,  madam?"  the  maid  was  asking. 

"Yes,  here  and  at  once,  please,"  answered  Beatrice 
VanTuyL  Then  she  turned  to  me.  "And  since  youVe 
«idi  a  jewel  expert  youTl  be  able  to  tell  me  whaf  a 
darkenmg  those  turquoises  of  mine." 

.  ^^f?^  **"™P°^«««- into  my  coflFee  and  sipped 
It  Wilkms  opened  a  dark-wooded  buflfet  humidor  be. 
fore  me,  and  I  picked  out  a  slender-waisted  Havana 
corseted  m  a  band  of  gold.  I  suddenly  looked  up  at 
Ae  man  as  he  stood  at  my  side  holding  the  blue-flamed 
htUe  akohol  lamp  for  the  contact  of  my  waiting  cigar 

"WiDdns,  how  did  you  get  that  scar?"  I  asked  him, 
out  of  a  dear  sky.    The  wrist  itself  was  covered  by  its 

cuff  and  sleeve  end,  but  under  them,  I  knew,  was  the 
telltale  mark. 

"What  scar,  sir?"  he  asked,  his  poUteness  touched 

with  an  mdulgent  patience  which  seemed  to  mq)ly  that 
he  was  not  altogether  unused  to  facing  geittlemen  in 
imaccountably  h^  spirits. 

"This  one!"  I  said,  catching  his  hand  in  mine  and 
nmmng  the  cuff  back  along  the  white  forearm.    Not 

one  trace  of  either  alarm  or  resentment  could  I  see  on 
that  mdedpherable  countenance.  I  ahnost  began  to 
admire  the  man.    In  his  way  he  was  superi*. 

"Oh,  Aat,  sirr  ht  exclaimed,  with  an  ahnost  offen- 
sivdy  condauy  glance  at  the  Van  Tuyb,  as  though 

inqumog  whether  ornot  he  shouM  wply  to  a  ques^ 


THE  IRREPROACHABLE  BUTLER     171 

at  once  so  personal  and  at  tiie  same  time  so  ont  <rf 

place. 

"TeU  him  where  yon  got  it,  WiDrins,"  said  Beatrice 
Van  Tuyl,  so  sharply  that  it  practically  amounted  to 
accffnmand. 

"I  got  it  stopping  Lord  Entristle's  brougham, 
madam,  in  London,  seven  years  ago,"  was  the  quiet 
and  unhesitating  answer. 

"How?"  sharply  asked  the  woman. 

"I  was  footman  for  his  lordship  Aen,  madam,"  w«t 
on  the  quiet  and  patient-noted  voice.  **I  had  just 
taken  cards  in  when  the  horses  were  frightened  by  a 
tandem  bicyde  going  post  They  threw  Siddons,  Ae 
coachman,  off  Ae  box  as  they  jun^jed.  and  overturned 
thcvdiicle.  His  kM-dship  was  inside.  I  got  the  rehis 
as  one  of  the  horses  went  down.  But  he  kicked  me 
against  the  broken  glass  and  I  threw  out  one  hand.  I 
fancy,  to  save  myself." 

"And  the  coadi  glass  cut  your  wristr  asked  Van 

Tuyl 

''Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  servant,  moving  with  methodic 
slowness  on  his  way  about  the  taMe.  His  figure,  in 
its  somber  badge  of  livery,  seemed  ahnost  a  patlietk: 
one.  There  was  no  anxiety  on  his  face,  no  ^ladow  of 
fear  about  the  mild  and  unpartidpating  eyes.  I  vns 
suddenly  consdous  of  my  unjust  superiority  over  him 
—a  st^erkmty  of  statkm,  of  birth,  of  momentary 
knowledge. 

The  siknoe  that  ensued  wm  not  a  pkasaot  cat.  I 
f  eh  ahnost  gratelrf  fer  fte  to^  «»trw€e  ol  Ae  mml 
Fdice.    In  her  hands  Ae  cairW  a  ^fMBBd  tte  tol» 


•    I 


173    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

about  the  size  of  a  theatrical  makeup  uax,    Vm  she 
placed  on  the  table  beside  her  mistress. 

"Is  there  uiy thing  else,  madam?''  she  asked. 

"That  is  all,"  answered  Beatrice  Van  Tuyl  as  she 
threw  b«ick  the  lid  of  the  japanned  box.  I  noticed  that 
although  the  key  stood  in  it,  it  was  unlocked.  Then 
my  hostess  looked  up  at  the  waiting  butler.  "And, 
Wilkins,  you  can  leave  the  cigars  and  liqueur  on  the 
table.    I'll  ring  if  I  want  anything." 

The  carefully  coiffured  blonde  head  was  bent  low 
over  the  box  as  the  servants  stepped  out  of  the  room. 
The  delicate  fingers  probed  through  the  array  of 
leather-covered  cases.  I  could  see  by  her  face,  even 
before  she  spoke,  that  the  box's  contents  were  intact 

"You  see,"  she  said,  ladling  handful  after  handful 
of  glittering  jewelry  out  on  the  white  table-cloth  be- 
tween her  coffee-cup  and  mine,  "everything  is  here. 
Those  are  my  rings.  There's  the  dog  collar.  There's 
angel  Jim's  sunburst  Here's  the  ordinary  family  junk." 

I  sat  for  a  momait  studying  that  Oriental  array  of 
feminine  adornment  It  was  plainly  an  array  of  evi- 
dence to  discountenance  me.  I  felt  a  distinct  sense  of 
relief  when  the  woman  in  Wue  suddenly  dropped  her 
eyes  from  my  face  to  her  jewel  box  agam.  It  was 
Van  Tuyl's  persistent  stare  that  rowded  me  into  final 
activity. 

"Then  so  far,  we're  in  luck  I  And  as  from  now  on 
I  want  to  be  responsible  for  what  happens,"  I  said,  as 
I  reached  over  and  gathered  the  glittering  mass  up  in 
a  table  napkin,  "I  think  it  will  simplify  things  if  you. 
Van  Tuyl,  take  possession  of  these." 


THE  IRREPROACHABLE  BUTLER      173 

I  tied  the  XM^ikiii  Mcurely  together  and  handed  it 
to  my  wondering  host  Then  I  dropped  a  aUver  bon- 
bon dish  and  a  bunch  of  hothouse  grapes  into  the 
emptied  box,  locking  it  and  handmg  the  key  back  to 
Beatrice  Van  Tuyl 

That  lady  locked  neither  at  me  nor  die  key.  In- 
stead, she  sat  staring  meditatively  into  space,  appar- 
ently weighing  s<mie  question  in  which  the  rest  of  that 
company  couM  daim  no  interest.  It  was  only  after 
her  husband  had  spoken  her  name,  sharply,  that  she 
came  bade  to  her  immediate  surroundings. 

"And  now  what  must  I  do?"  she  asked,  with  a  new 
note  of  seriousness. 

"Have  the  maid  take  the  box  back  to  where  it  came 
from,"  I  t<W  her.    "But  be  so  good  as  to  retain  the 

key." 

"And  then  what?"  modccd  Van  TuyL 

"Then,"  cut  in  his  wife,  with  a  sudden  note  of 
antagonism  which  I  could  not  account  for,  "the  sooner 
we  send  for  the  poUke  the  better." 

An  answering  note  of  antagonism  showed  <m  Vaw 

Tuyl's  face. 

"I  tdl  you,  Kerfoot,  I  can't  do  it,'*  he  objected,  even 
as  bis  wife  rang  the  bdL    "You've  got  to  show  mer 

"Please  be  still,  Jim,"  she  said,  as  Wilkins  stepped 
into  the  room.  She  turned  an  impassive  face  to  the 
waiting  servant    "Will  you  ask  Felice  to  come  here." 

None  of  us  spoke  until  Felice  entered  the  rx>m. 
WiBdns,  I  noticed,  followed  her  in,  but  passed  across 
the  room's  full  length  and  went  out  by  the  door  in  A« 
rear. 


174    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

"Felice,"  said  the  woman  beside  me,  very  calmly 
and  cooUy,  "I  want  you  to  take  this  box  bade  to  the 
safe." 

"Yes,  madam." 

'Then  go  to  the  tdephone  in  Ae  study  and  ring  up 
police  headquarters.  Tell  them  who  you  are  Then 
explain  that  I  want  them  to  send  an  officer  here,  at 
<mce." 

"Yes,  madam,"  answered  the  attentive-faced  maid. 
'Tdice,  you  had  better  ask  them  to  send  two  men, 
two—" 

"Two  plain-clothes  men/*  I  prompted. 

**Yes,  two  plain-clothes  men.  And  explain  to  them 
Aat  they  are  to  arrest  the  man-servant  who  opens  the 
door  for  them-4it  once,  and  without  any  fuss.  Is  that 
quite  dear?" 

"Yes,  madam,  quite  dear,"  answered  die  maid. 

"Then  please  hurry." 

"Yes,  madam." 

I  looked  up  at  Van  Tuyl's  audible  splutter  of  in- 
dignation. 

"Excuse  me;*  he  cried,  "but  isn't  all  this  getting  just 
a  little  highhanded?  Aren't  we  making  things  into  a 
nice  mess  for  ourselves?  Aren't  we  moving  just  a 
little  too  fast  in  this  game,  calling  out  the  reserves 
because  you  happen  to  spot  a  scar  on  my  butler's 
wrist?" 

"I  tell  you,  Jim,"  I  cried  with  all  die  earnestness  at 
my  command,  "the  man's  a  thief,  a  criminal  with  a 
criminal's  reccvd!" 

"Then  prove  it  f'  demanded  Jim. 


THE  IRREPROACHABLE  BXJTLKl     17s 


"Call  Hm  in  and  I  wm." 

Van  X  uyl  made  a  motion  for  his  wife  to  touch  tb« 

bdL 

H«r  slippered  toe  was  still  on  the  rug-covered  button 
when  Wilkins  entered,  the  same  austere  and  self-as- 
sured figure. 

"Wilkins,"  said  Van  Tuyl,  and  Acre  was  an  out- 
spoken and  deUberate  savagery  in  his  voice  even  as 
his  wife  motioned  to  him  in  what  seemed  a  signal  for 
moderation,  "Wifldns,  I  regard  you  as  an  especiaUy 
good  servant.  Mr.  Kcrfoot.  on  the  other  hand,  sayt 
he  knows  you  and  says  you  are  not" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  WiBdns  with  his  totem-pole  ab- 

stractitm. 
There  was  something  especially  maddemng  m  thrt 

sustained  calmness  of  his. 

"And  what's  more,"  I  suddenly  cried,  exa^)erated 
by  that  play-actmg  role  and  rising  and  confronting  hhn 
as  he  stood  there,  **y<mr  name's  not  Wilkins,  wid  you 
never  got  that  wrist  scar  from  a  coach  door.** 

"Why  not,  sir?"  he  gently  but  most  respectfully  in- 
quired. 

"Because,"  i  cried,  stepping  stiU  nearer  and  watch- 
ing the  immobile  bkie-white  face,  'In  the  gang  yott 
work  with  you're  known  as  Sir  Henry,  and  you  got 
that  cut  on  the  wrist  from  a  wedge  when  you  tried  to 
blow  open  a  safe  door,  and  the  letters  of  faitroduction 
which  you  brought  to  the  Whippeny  Club  w»e  forged 
by  an  expert  named  Turic  McMeddn ;  and  I  kiio^r  what 
brought  you  into  this  house  and  what  yi«ttr  ^lans  for 
robbing  it  are!" 


ii 


ht 


i^ 


i.^ : 


176    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

There  was  not  one  mpve  of  his  body  as  be  stood 
there.  There  was  not  one  twitch  of  his  mask-like  face. 
But  on  that  face,  point  by  point,  came  a  sk>w  suf- 
fusion of  something  akin  to  expression.  It  was  not 
fear.  To  call  it  fear  would  be  doing  the  man  an  in- 
justice. It  began  with  the  eyes,  and  spread  from 
feature  to  feature,  very  much,  I  imagine,  as  sentient 
life  must  have  spnsA  across  the  countenance  of  Pyg- 
malion's slowly  awakening  marble. 

For  one  fraction  of  a  moment  the '  ,«t  pitiful  eyes 
looked  at  me  with  a  quick  and  implo  utg  glance.  Then 
the  mask  once  more  descended  over  them.  He  was 
himself  again.  And  I  felt  ahnost  sure  that  in  the  mel- 
lowed light  about  us  the  other  two  figures  at  the  tab'-* 
had  not  seen  that  face  as  I  did. 

There  was,  in  fact,  something  ahnost  like  shame 
on  Van  Tuyl's  heavy  face  as  the  cabn-voiced  servant, 
utterly  ignoring  me  and  my  words,  turned  to  him  and 
asked  if  he  should  remove  the  things. 

"You  haven't  answered  the  gentleman,"  said  Bea- 
trice Van  Tuyl,  in  a  vdce  a  litUe  shrill  with  excite- 
ment 

"What  is  diere  to  answer,  madam  V  he  mildly  asked. 
"It's  all  the  young  gentleman's  foolishness,  some  fool- 
ishness whidi  I  can't  understand." 

"But  the  thing  can't  stand  like  this,"  protested  the 
ponderous  Van  TuyL 

There  must  have  beoi  something  reassuring  to  tfiem 
both  in  the  methodic  cahnness  with  which  this  calum- 
niated factor  in  their  domestic  Eden  moved  about  once 
more  performing  his  petty  dcxnestic  duties. 


THE  IRREPROACHABLE  BIT'  ER     tf! 


A 

e. 
f- 
>t 
i- 
n 
tt 


•Then  you  deny  evetythmg  he  laytr  intitted  the 

woman.  

The  servant  stopped  and  looked  up  in  mild  reproof. 

'•Of  course,  madam,"  he  replied,  as  he  slowly  re- 
moved the  Hqueur  glasses.  Isawmyhortesslookafter 
him  with  one  of  her  long  and  abrtracted  glancefc  She 
was  still  peering  into  his  face  as  he  stepped  back  to  the 
table.  She  was,  indeed,  still  gazing  at  him  when  the 
muffled  shrill  of  an  electric  bell  announced  there  was 
a  caller  at  ^  street  door. 

"Wilkins,"  she  said,  ahnoet  ruminatively,  1  want 
you  to  answer  the  door — ^the  street  door.* 

"Yes,  madam,"  he  answered,  without  hesitation. 

The  three  of  us  sat  in  silence,  as  the  stow  and 
methodic  steps  crossed  the  room,  stepped  out  into  the 
hall,  and  advanced  to  what  at  least  one  of  us  knew  to 
be  his  doom.  It  was  Van  Tuyl  himself  who  spoke  up 
out  of  the  silence. 

**Whaf  s  up?"  he  asked.    "What's  he  gone  for?" 

The  police  are  Acre,"  answered  his  wife. 

'  '---  1  God !"  exclaimed  the  astounded  husbsuid,  now 
f  5,         "  t    **You  don't  mean  you've  sprung  that  trap 

on  -  -  r*^*'''  devil?   You — ** 

"Sit  down,  Jim,"  broke  in  his  wife  with  enforced 
catemess.    "Sit  down  and  wait" 

"But  I  won't  be  made  a  fool  of  T' 

"You're  not  being  made  a  fool  of !" 

"But  who's  arresting  this  man?  Who's  got  the 
evidence  to  justify  what's  being  done  here?" 

"I  have,"  was  ie  woman's  answec 

"What  do  you  mean?* 


ITS    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


Ri 


'■'  '• 


SIm  was  reiy  cafan  about  it 

"I  mean  that  Witter  waf  right  My  Baroda  ptmU 
MdtktemiraUpendattiwtrtnotmthfj^i,  The^r§ 
gam" 

**Thieftt  goat?"  echoed  the  uicredukNit  husband. 

"Listen."  I  wddenly  cried,  a«  Van  Ttyl  sat  digert- 
tng  his  discoveiy.  We  heatd  the  sound  of  steps,  the 
shun  of  a  door,  and  the  departing  hum  of  a  nK>tor<ar. 
Before  I  realised  what  she  was  doing  Beatrice  Van 
Tuyl's  foot  was  onoe  more  oo  the  call  belL  A  foot- 
man answered  the  summons. 

"Go  to  the  street  door/*  she  commanded,  "and  see 
who^s  there" 

We  waited,  listening.  The  silence  lengthened. 
Something  about  that  silence  impressed  me  as  omi- 
nous. We  were  still  intently  listening  as  the  footman 
stepped  bade  imo  die  room. 

"If  s  the  chauffeur,  sir,**  he  explamed. 

"And  what  does  he  want?" 

"He  said  Felice  telephoned  for  the  car  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  ago." 

"Send  Felice  to  me,"  commanded  my  hostess. 

"I  don't  think  I  can,  ma'am.  She's  gone  m  the  car 
with  WUkms.** 

"With  Wilkins?" 

"Yes,  ma'am.  Markson  says  he  can't  make  it  out, 
ma'am,  Wilkins  driving  off  that  way  without  so  much 
as  a  by-your-leave,  ma'am." 

The  three  of  us  rose  as  one  from  t!»  table.  For  a 
second  or  two  we  stood  staring  at  one  another. 

Then  Van  Tuyl  suddenly  dived  for  the  stairs,  with 


THE  IRREPROACHABLE  BUTLER     179 

thenaiilcinfiinof  jewefaryinhifluttKL  I,  in  tnni,  dived 

for  tfw  mm  &i)or,    BnA  before  I  opoied  it  I  kmw 

it  wts  too  bite. 
I  soddenlx  stepped  tMwIc  into  tlw  bafiwqr,  to  oonfrooft 

Beatrice  Van  Tt^L 

liow  hag  have  yoo  had  Felice  r  I  aalnd,  gropinf 
inipoteatiy  about  tfie  hall  doset  lorngr  hat  and  coat 

"She  came  two  wedct  before  WiOdni,''  was  the 


«Then  yon  see  what  this  nwantr  I  aAed,  still  grop- 
ing abont  for  mjr  overcoat 
"What  flm  it  mean  r 
"They  were  woiidng  together—they  were  cooled- 


Van  T17I  descended  ^  stairs  still  carryfaig  the 
table  napkin  faO  of  jewdiy.   His  eyes  were  wide  with 

indignant  wonder. 
"It's  goner  he  gasped.   "He^s  taken  yoor  box r 
I  emoged  from  the  hall  ctoset  botfi  a  litde  startled 
and  a  little  hnmifiated. 

"Yes»  ttd  he's  taken  my  hat  and  coat"  I  sadly  con- 
fessed. 


CHAPTER  Vn 


iJ! 


lifci 


THB  PANAMA  GOLD  CHBtTS 

TT  it  one  of  life's  little  ironies,  I  suppoee^  that  man's 
•^  surest  escape  from  misery  should  be  through  the 
contemplation  of  peof^  more  miserable  than  himself. 
Such,  however,  happens  to  be  the  case.  And  prompted 
by  this  genial  cross  between  a  stoic  and  a  cynic  philos- 
ophy, I  had  formed  the  habit  of  periodically  submerg- 
ing myself  in  a  bath  of  cleansing  depravity. 

The  hopelessness  of  toy  felbw-beings,  I  found, 
seemed  to  give  me  something  to  live  for.  Collision 
with  lives  so  putrescently  abominable  that  my  own 
by  contrast  seemed  enviable,  had  a  tendency  to  make 
me  forget  my  troubles.  And  this  developed  me  into 
a  sort  of  calamity  chaser.  It  still  carried  m^  on  those 
nights  when  sleq>  seemed  beyrnid  my  reach,  to  many 
devious  and  astounding  comers  of  the  dty,  to  unsavory 
cellars  where  lemon-steerers  and  slough-beaters  fore- 
gathered, to  ill-lit  rooms  where  anardiists  nightly  ate 
the  fire  of  their  own  ineffectual  oratory,  to  heavy- 
fumed  drinking-places  where  pocket-slashers  and  till- 
tappers  and  dumn^-diudcers  and  dips  forgot  their 
more  arduous  hours. 

But  more  and  more  often  I  found  my  steps  uncon- 
sciously directed  toward  that  particular  den  of  sub- 
terranean iniquities  known  as  The  CafS  of  Failures. 
For  it  was  in  this  new-world  Cabaret  du  Neont  that 

i8o 


THE  PANAMA  GOLD  CHESTS        i8i 


I  bad  fint  bnrd  of  Ihat  engaging  *Hstkr  Imows  to 
hit  coofederatet  aa  "Sir  Hcny."  And  I  Hill  had 
hopes  of  recovering'  my  ttoksn  great-coat. 

Night  by  night  I  went  bade  to  that  dimly  lit  den  of 
life's  discards,  the  same  as  a  bewildered  beagle  goes 
back  to  its  hut  trace  of  aniseed.  I  grew  hrared  to  its 
bad  air,  tmobservant  of  its  soorbntic  waiters,  iwdi»- 
turbed  by  its  ondnoos-looldnf  warren  of  private  rooms, 
and  apathetic  before  its  meretridons  blondes. 

Yet  at  no  thne  was  I  one  of  the  drde  about  me.  At 
no  time  was  I  anytfafaig  more  than  a  spectator  of  their 
everndiiftinsf  and  ever-myziifyin|f  dramas.  And  this 
not  unnatural  eecretiveneas  on  tiieir  part,  combiwd 
with  a  not  unnatural  curiodty  of  my  own,  finally  com- 
pelled me  to  a  method  of  espionage  in  which  I  giew 
to  take  tome  little  pride 

This  method,  for  all  its  ingenuity,  was  siqiple  enough 
to  mxf  oat  of  evoi  ordinaiy  sdentifie  attainments. 
When  I  found,  for  example,  that  ^  more  a^Attt  of 
those  underworid  conferences  invariably  took  pbcr  hi 
one  of  that  tier  of  wobd-partitkmed  drinldngnro  i 
whidi  fined  tiie  cafe's  east  side,  I  percdved  that  L  I 
cocdd  not  faivade  those  rooms  in  body  I  migiit  At  kairt 
be  there  in  another  form.  So  vt)  *:  tihe  he  p  of  my 
friend  Durkhi,  the  reformed  wire-taf.per,  I  acquired  a 
piece  of  mfff*i"*'y  for  the  projection  of  die  qiirit  into 
uuweKome  corners. 

This  instrument.  In  fact,  was  fitdc  more  than  an  en- 
'fafgement  of  the  or^Bnary  telephone  tranmitter.  It 
was  made  by  attaddng  to  an  oUong  of  ghMS,  oonstitnt- 
Ing  of  course,  an  hisuhited  base,  two  caiben  airports, 


i82    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


III 


i- 


!•  1 


11  fl 


h 


with  cavities,  and  four  cro68-i»eces,  also  of  carbon, 
with  pointed  ends,  fittii^  loosely  into  the  cavities 
placed  along  the  side  of  the  two  supports.  The  result 
was,  this  carbon  being  what  electricians  call  "a  high 
resistance"  and  the  loose  contact-points  where  the  lat- 
erals rested  making  resistance  still  higher,  that  all 
vibration,  however  minute,  jarred  the  points  against 
their  supports  and  varied  resistance  in  proportion  to 
the  vibration  itself.  This,  of  course,  produced  a  chang- 
ing current  in  the  "primary"  of  the  induction  coil,  and 
was  in  turn  reproduced,  greatiy  magnif.cd,  in  the  "sec- 
ondary" vi^ere  with  the  help  of  a  small  watch-case 
receiver  it  could  be  easily  heard. 

In  odier  words,  I  acquired  a  mechanical  sound-mag* 
nifier,  a  microphone,  an  instrument,  of  late  called  the 
dictaj^ione,  which  translates  the  lightest  tap  of  a  pen- 
dl-end  into  something  which  reached  the  ear  with  the 
force  of  a  hammer-Uow.  And  the  whole  thing,  bat- 
tery, coil,  insulated  wire,  carbon  bars  and  glass  base, 
could  be  carried  in  its  leather  case  or  thrust  under  wj 
coat  as  easily  as  a  folded  opera  hat 

It  was  equally  easy,  I  found,  to  kt  it  hang  flat 
against  the  side  wall  of  that  rancid  little  chambre  par' 
ticulUre  whidi  stood  next  to  the  room  where  most  of 
those  star-diamber  amsi»racies  seemed  to  take  place. 
My  roeAod  oi  adjusting  the  micrqphoBe  was  quite 
sinqde 

From  Hie  piloted  wooden  partitMo  I  lifted  down 
the  gilt-framed  picture  of  a  bacchanalian  lady  whose 
semi-nudity  dissoninated  tiie  virtues  of  a  champagne 
which  I  bww  to  be  made  f nnn  the  refuse  of  the  huniUl 


THE  PANAMA  GOLD  CHESTS         183 


apple-evaporator.  At  the  top-most  edge  of  the  square 
of  dust  where  this  picture  had  stood,  I  carefully 
screwed  two  L-hooks  and  on  these  hooks  hung  my 
microi^one-base.  Then  I  rehung  the  picture,  leaving 
it  there  to  screen  my  apparatus.  My  cloth-covered 
wires,  which  ran  from  this  picture  to  the  back  of  the 
worn  leather  couch  against  the  wall,  I  very  nicely  con- 
cealed by  pinning  close  under  a  stretch  of  gas  pipe  and 
poking  in  under  the  edge  of  the  tattered  brown  lino- 
leum. 

Yet  it  was  only  on  the  third  evening  of  my  mildly 
exhilarating  occupation  in  that  stuffy  little  camera 
obscura  that  certain  things  occurred  to  rob  my  espion- 
age of  its  impersonal  and  half-hearted  excitement.  I 
had  ordered  a  bottle  of  Chianti  and  gone  into  that 
room  to  all  intents  and  purposes  a  diffident  and  maun- 
dering hon^fivant  loddng  for  nothing  more  than  a 
quiet  comer  wherein  to  doze. 

Yet  for  one  long  hour  I  had  sat  in  that  secret  audi- 
torium, with  my  watch-case  receiver  at  my  ear,  while 
a  garrulous  quartette  of  strike-breakers  enlarged  on  the 
beatitude  of  beating  up  a  "cop"  who  had  ill-used  one 
of  their  number. 

It  must  have  been  a  ful]  half  hour  after  tiiey  had 
goat  before  I  again  lifted  the  phone  to  my  ear.  What 
I  heard  this  time  was  another  man's  voice,  alert,  eager, 
a  little  high-pitched  with  excitement 

"I  tell  you,  Chude,"  tiiis  thin  eager  voice  was  declar- 
ing, "the  thing's  a  pipe!  I  got  it  worked  out  like  a 
game  o'  checkers.  But  Redney  'nd  me  can't  do  a  thing 
unless  you  stake  us  to  a  boat  and  a  batch  o'  toolsr 


n 


184    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

"What  kind  o'  tools?"  asked  a  deep  and  caTernoos 
bass  voice.  In  that  voice  I  could  feel  cauUon  and 
stolidity,  even  an  overtone  of  autocratic  indifference 

"Ten  bones'd  get  the  whole  outfit,"  was  the  other's 
answer. 

"But  what  kmd  o'  tools?"  insisted  the  unperturbed 
bass  voice. 

There  was  a  second  or  two  of  silence. 

'That's  spielin'  the  whole  song,"  demurred  the  other. 

"Well,  the  whole  song's  what  I  want  to  know,"  was 
the  cahn  and  cavernous  answer.  "You'll  recall  that 
three  weeks  ago  I  staked  you  boys  for  that  express- 
wagon  job— and  I  ain't  seen  nothing  from  it  yet  I" 

"Aw,  that  was  a  frame-up,"  protested  the  first 
speaker.    "Some  squealer  was  layin'  for  usP' 

It  was  a  new  voice  that  spoke  next,  a  husky  and 
quavering  voice,  as  though  it  came  from  an  alkaline 
throat  not  infrequently  irrigated  with  fusel-oU  whisky. 

"Tony,  we  got  to  let  Chuck  in  on  this.    We  got  to  I" 

"Why'vewegotto?" 

*Two  men  can't  work  it  alone,"  complained  the 
latest  speaker.  "You  know  that  We  can't  take 
chances— and  Gawd  knows  there's  enough  for  three  in 
this  haul  I" 

Agam  there  was  a  brief  silence. 

"You  make  me  sick!"  suddenly  exploded  the  treble- 
voiced  youth  who  had  first  spoken.  "You'd  think  it 
was  me  who's  been  singin'  about  keepm'  this  thim?  so 
quiet  I" 

"What're  you  boys  beefin'  about,  anyway?"  inter- 
posed the  i^add  bass  voice. 


THE  PANAMA  GOLD  CHESTS 


185 


"I  ain't  beefin'  about  you.  I  ain't  kickin'  against 
lettin'  you  in.  But  what  I  want  to  know  is  how're  we 
goin'  to  split  when  you  me  in  ?  Who  folUed  this  thing 
up  from  the  first?  Who  did  the  dirty  work  on  it? 
Who  nosed  round  that  pier  and  measured  her  off,  and 
got  a  bead  on  the  whole  lay-out?" 

"Then  what'd  you  take  me  in  for?"  demanded  the 
worthy  called  Rcdncy.  "Why  didn't  you  go  ahead  and 
hog  the  whole  thing,  without  havin'  me  trailin'  round  ?" 

"Cut  that  out  You  know  I've  got  to  have  help," 
was  the  treble^noted  retort.  "You  know  it's  too  big 
for  one  guy  to  handle." 

"And  it's  so  big  you've  got  to  have  a  boat  and  out- 
fit," suggested  the  boss-voiced  man.  "And  I'll  bet 
you  and  Redney  can't  raise  two  bits  between  you." 

"But  y(m  get  me  a  tub  with  a  kicker  in,  and  two  or 
three  tools,  and  then  you've  got  the  nerve  to  hold  me 
up  for  a  third  rakcoffl" 

"I  don't  see  as  I'm  holdin'  anybody  up,"  retorted 
the  deep-voiced  man.  "You  came  to  me,  and  I  told 
you  I  was  ready  to  talk  business.  You  said  you  wanted 
help.  Well,  if  you  want  help  you've  got  to  pay  for  it, 
same  as  I  pay  for  those  cigars." 

"I'm  willin'  to  pay  for  it,"  answered  the  high-voiced 
youth,  with  a  quietn^s  not  altogether  divorced  from 
sulkiness. 

"Then  what're  we  wastin*  good  time  over?"  inquired 
the  man  known  as  Redney.  "This  ain't  a  case  o'  milk- 
in'  coffee-bags  from  a  slip-lighter.  This  haul's  big 
enough  for  three." 

"Well,  what  %s  your  haul?"  demanded  the  bast  voke. 


i'l: 


,: 


i86    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

Again  there  was  a  silence  of  several  seconds. 

"Cough  it  up,"  prompted  Redncy.  The  silence  that 
ensued  seemed  to  imfjy  that  the  younger  man  was 
slowly  and  reluctantly  arriving  at  a  change  of  front. 
There  was  a.  sound  of  a  chair  being  pushed  back,  of  a 
match  being  struck,  of  a  glass  being  put  down  on  a 
table-top. 

"Chuck,"  said  the  treble-voiced  youth,  with  a  slow 
and  unpressive  solemnity  that  was  strangely  in  con- 
trast to  his  earUer  speech,  "Chuck,  we're  up  against 
the  biggest  stunt  that  was  ever  pulled  off  in  this  burg 
of  two-bone  pikers!" 

"So  you've  been  insinuatin',"  was  the  answer  that 
came  out  of  the  silence.  "But  I've  been  sittin'  here 
half  an  hour  waitin'  to  get  a  line  on  what  you're  chew- 
in'  about" 

"Chuck,"  said  the  t-eble  voice,  "you  read  the  papers, 
don't  you?" 

"Now  and  then,"  acknowledged  the  diffident  bass 
voice. 

"Well,  did  you  see  yesterday  morning  where  th«» 
steamer  Finance  was  rammed  by  the  White  Star 
GeorgicT  Where  she  went  down  in  the  Lower  Bay 
before  she  got  started  on  her  way  south?" 

"I  sure  did." 

"Well,  did  you  read  about  her  carryin*  six  hundred 
and  ten  thousand  dollars  in  gold — ^in  gold  taken  from 
the  Sub-Treasury  here  and  done  up  in  wooden  boxes 
and  consigned  for  that  Panama  Construction  Com- 
p'ny." 

"I  sure  did" 


THE  PANAMA  GOLD  CHESTS 


187 


"And  did  your  eye  fall  on  the  item  ^t  all  day 
yesterday  the  divers  fnnn  the  wreddii'  coiiq>'ny  were 
workin'  on  that  steamer,  workin'  like  niggers  gettin' 
that  gold  out  of  her  strong  room?" 

"Surer 

'^'.^d  do  you  happen  to  know  where  that  gold  is 
now?"  was  the  oratorical  challenge  flung  at  the  other 
man. 

"Just  wait  a  minute/'  rem^irked  that  other  man  in 
his  h«ivy  gutturaL    "Is  that  your  coup?" 

"That's  my  coup!"  was  the  confident  retort 

"Well,  you've  pidced  a  lemcMi,"  the  big  man  calmly 
annotmced.  "There's  nothin'  doin',  kiddo,  nothiu' 
doin'I" 

"Not  on  your  life,"  was  the  tense  retort  "I  know 
what  I'm  talkin'  about    And  Redney  knows.'' 

"And  /  know  that  gold  went  south  on  the  steamer 
'Advance'*  proclaimed  the  boss  voice.  "I  happen  to 
know  th^  re^shipped  the  whole  bunch  o'  metal  on  their 
second  steamer." 

"Where'd  you  find  that  out?"  demanded  the  scof- 
fing treble  voice. 

"Not  bein'  in  the  SuKTreasury  this  season,  I  had 
to  fall  back  on  the  papers  for  the  news." 

"And  that's  where  you  and  the  papers  is  in  dead 
wrong!  That's  how  tl^'re  foolin'  you  and  ev*iy 
other  guy  not  in  the  know.  I'll  tell  you  where  that 
gold  is.  I'll  tdl  you  where  it  lies,  to  tiie  foot,  at  this 
minute  I" 

"Wen?" 

"She's  lyin'  in  the  store-room  in  a  pile  o*  wooden 


st-t 


J.  J 

i   ; 

Mi 


i88    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

boxes,  on  that  Panama  Comp'ny's  pier  down  at  the 
foot  o'  Twenty-eight'  Street!" 

"You're  dreamin',  Tony,  dreamin*.  No  sane  folks 
leave  gold  lyin'  round  loose  that  way.  No,  sir;  that's 
what  they've  got  a  nice  stone  Sub-Treasury  for." 

'•Look  a'  here,  Chuck,"  went  on  the  tense  treble 
voice.  "Jus*  figure  out  what  day  this  is.  And  find 
out  when  them  wreckers  got  that  gold  cut  o'  the 
Finance's  strong  room.  And  what  d'you  get?  They 
lightered  them  boxes  up  the  North  River  at  one  o'clock 
Saturday  afternoon.  They  swung  in  next  to  the  Ad- 
vance  and  put  a  half-a-dozen  cases  o'  lead  paint  aboard. 
Then  they  tarpaulined  th«n  boxes  o'  gold  and  swung 
into  the  Panama  Comp'ny's  slip  and  unloaded  that 
cargo  at  two  o'clock  Saturday  aftemoonf* 

"•Well,  s'pose  they  did?" 

"Don't  you  tumble?  Saturday  aftemocm  there's  no 
Sub-Treasury  open.  And  to-day's  Sunday,  ain't  it? 
And  they  won't  get  into  that  Sub-Treasury  until  to- 
morrow morning.  And  as  sure  as  I  know  I'm  sittin* 
in  this  chair  I  know  that  gold's  lyin'  out  there  on  that 
Twenty-eight'  Street  pier!" 

No  one  in  that  little  room  seemed  to  stir.  They 
seemed  to  be  setting  in  silent  tableau.  Then  I  could 
hear  the  man  witli  the  bass  voice  slowly  and  medita- 
tively intone  his  low-life  expletive. 

"WeU,  I'll  be  damned!" 

The  3roungest  of  the  trio  spoke  again,  in  a  lowered 
but  none  the  less  tense  voice. 

"In  gold,  Chuck,  pure  gold!  In  fine  jrellow  gold 
lyin'  there  waitin'  to  be  rolled  over  and  looked  after! 


THE  PANAMA  GOLD  CHESTS 


189 


Talk  about  treasure-huntin'i  Talk  about  Spanish 
Mains  and  pirate  ships!  My  Gawd,  Qiuck,  we  dcm't 
need  to  travel  down  to  no  Mosquito  Coast  to  dig  up 
our  doubloons  I  We  got  'em  rij^t  here  at  our  back 
door!" 

Some  one  struck  a  matdi. 

"But  how're  we  goin'  to  pick  *em?"  placidly  inquired 
the  man  called  Chuck.  It  was  as  ai^>arent  that  he  al- 
ready counted  himself  one  of  the  party  as  it  was  that 
their  intention  had  not  quite  carried  him  off  his  feet 

"Look  here,"  broke  in  the  more  fiery-minded  youth 
known  as  Tony,  and  from  the  sound  and  the  short 
interludes  of  silence  he  seemed  to  be  drawing  a  nap 
on  a  slip  of  pa^r.  "Here's  your  pier.  And  here's 
your  store-room.  And  here's  where  your  gcAd  lies. 
And  here's  the  first  door.  And  here's  the  second.  We 
don't  need  to  count  on  the  doors.  They've  got  a  watdi- 
man  somewhere  about  here.  And  they've  put  two  of 
their  special  guards  here  at  the  land  end  of  the  pier. 
The  store-room  itself  is  empty.  Th^'ve  got  it  double- 
locked,  and  a  closed-circuit  alarm  sjrstem  to  cinch  the 
Aing.  But  what  t'ell  use  is  all  that  when  we  can  eat 
rij^t  straight  up  into  the  bowels  o'  that  roc»n  without 
touchin'  a  lock  or  a  burglar  alarm,  without  makin'  a 
sotmdl" 

"How?"  inquired  the  bass  voice. 

"Here's  your  pier  bottom.  Here's  th^  river  slip. 
We  row  into  that  slip  without  showin'  a  light,  and 
with  the  kicker  shut  off,  naturally.  We  slide  in  under 
without  makin*  a  sound.  Then  we  get  our  measure- 
ments.  Then  we  make  fast  to  this  pile,  and  throw  out 


190    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

a  line  to  this  one,  and  a  second  to  this  one,  to  hold  ui 
««dy  against  the  tide  and  the  ferry  wash.    Then  we 

^^Z."^'^^"^'    W«  <^  do  that  by  pokin'  a 
flashlight  up  against  'em  where  it'U  never  be  seen. 

I^TJl  "f".  ^  ?"*?  ^^  Wt  and  run  a  row  of  holes 
across  that  plank,  the  two  rows  about  thirty  inches 
apart,  each  nole  touchin'  the  other.  Don't  you  see,  with 
a  good  sharp  extension  bit  we  can  cut  out  that  square 
m  half  an  hour  or  so,  without  makin'  any  more  noise 
^^  youd  make  scratchin'  a  match  on  your  pants 

"And  when  you  get  your  square?" 

"Then  Redncy  and  me  climbs  through.  Redney'U 
^  the  stall.  He  watches  the  door  from  the  inside. 
You  stay  m  the  boat,  with  an  eye  peeled  below.    I 

^^Zu"^^^:  ^^<^*^«>«^«»d  slip  off  with  the 
tid^  When  we're  out  o'  hearin'  we  throw  on  the 
kicker  and  go  kitin'  down  to  that  Bath  Beach  joint 
o  yours  where  we'U  have  that  six  hundred  and  ten 
thousand  m  gold  melted  down  and  weighed  out  before 
ttiey  get  that  store-room  door  unlocked  in  the  morn- 

"Not  so  loud,  Tony;  not  so  loud!"  cautioned  the 
sTnT'"  '''  '  ''"'""''    ^^^'  ™  *  ^^'-' 

^one,  I  heard  the  sound  of  steps  as  they  approached 
my  door  and  came  to  a  stop. 

"Listen !"  suddenly  whispered  one  of  the  men  in  the 
otner  room. 

As  I  sat  there,  listening  as  intently  as  my  neighbors, 


THE  PANAMA  GOLD  aiESTS 


191 


the  knob  of  my  door  turned.  Then  the  door  itself  was 
impatiently  shaken. 

That  sound  trought  me  to  my  feet  with  a  start  of 
alarm.  Accident  had  enmeshed  me  in  a  movement  that 
was  too  gigantic  to  be  overloc^ed.  The  one  thing  I 
could  not  afford,  at  such  a  time,  was  discovery. 

Three  siloit  steps  took  me  across  the  room  to  my 
microj^one.  One  movement  lifted  that  telltale  instm- 
ment  from  its  hooks,  and  a  second  movement  jerked 
free  the  wires  pinned  in  close  along  the  gas  pipe.  An- 
other movement  or  two  saw  my  i^>paratus  sliiq>ed  into 
its  case  and  the  case  dropped  down  behind  the  worn 
leather-couch  back.  Then  I  sank  into  the  chair  beside 
the  table,  knowing  there  was  nothing  to  betray  me. 
Yet  as  I  lounged  there  over  n^  bottle  of  ChianH  I 
could  feel  the  excitement  of  the  moment  accelerate  my 
pulse.  I  made  an  effort  to  get  n^  feeling^  under  con- 
trol as  second  t^  secmd  slipped  away  and  nothing  of 
importance  took  place.  It  was,  I  decided,  n^  wall- 
eycd  Mraiter  friend,  doubtlessly  bearing  a  message  that 
more  lucrative  patrons  were  desiring  my  fetid-aired 
cubby-hole. 

Then,  of  a  sudden,  I  became  aware  of  the  fact  Hxat 
voices  wf  re  whispering  dose  outside  my  door.  The 
next  moment  I  heard  die  crunch  of  wood  subjected 
to  pressure,  and  before  I  could  move  or  realize  the 
full  meaning  of  that  sound,  the  door  had  been  forced 
open  and  three  men  were  staring  in  at  me. 

I  lodc^  up  at  tiiem  with  a  start— with  a  start,  ftaw- 
ever,  which  I  had  the  in^r^  foresight  to  translate 
into  a  hiccough.   That  hiccough,  in  turn,  reminded 


193    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 


1 

i 
i 


I 


u 


m 


'1 

•I  i 


i' 


that  I  had  a  role  to  sustain,  a  rtk  of  care-irce  and 
irreqminUe  intoxication. 

So,  opprobrious  as  the  whole  hxct  seemed  to  mt, 
I  pushed  my  hat  back  on  my  head  and  blinkingly  stared 
at  the  three  intruders  as  they  sauntered  nonchalantly 
into  the  room.  Yet  as  I  winked  up  at  them,  with  all 
the  sleepy  unconcern  at  my  command,  I  could  plainly 
enough  see  that  each  one  of  that  trio  was  very  much  on 
the  alert  It  was  the  youngest  of  the  three  who  turned 
to  me. 

"Kiddo,"  he  said,  and  he  spoke  with  an  dly  suavi^ 
not  at  all  to  my  liking,  "I  kind  o'  thought  I  smelt  gas 
leakin'  in  here." 

He  had  the  effrontery  to  turn  and  stare  about  at 
the  four  waUs  of  the  room.  Thai  he  moved  easily 
across  the  floor  to  where  the  champagne  picture  hung. 
What  he  saw,  or  did  not  see  there,  I  had  no  means  of 
determining.  For  to  turn  and  look  after  him  would 
be  to  betray  n^  part 

"That  leak  ain't  in  this  room,"  admitted  the  second 
of  the  trio,  a  swarthy  and  looi'c-lipped  land  pirate  with 
a  sweep  of  carroty  bang  wmch  covered  his  left  eye- 
brow. I  knew,  even  before  he  spoke,  that  he  was  the 
man  called  Redney,  just  as  I  knew  the  first  speaker 
was  the  youth  they  had  addressed  as  Tony.  About  the 
third  man,  who  towered  above  the  other  two  in  his 
giant-like  stature,  there  was  a  sense  of  calm  and  sdid- 
ity  that  seemed  nbnost  pachydermatous.  Yet  this  same 
solidity  in  aomc  way  warned  me  that  he  might  be  the 
most  dangerous  of  them  all. 

'  'Sssh  all  righM"  I  loosely  condoned,  with  a  sleepy 


u 


THE  PANAMA  GOLD  CHESTS 


193 


lurch  of  the  body.  How  much  ray  acdnf  wai  convinc- 
ing to  them  was  a  matter  of  vast  concern  to  me.  The 
man  named  Toi^,  who  had  coittintied  to  ^udy  tlw 
wooden  partition  against  which  my  microphone  had 
hung,  turned  bade  to  the  table  and  calmly  seated  him- 
self beside  me.  My  heart  went  down  like  an  elevator 
with  a  broken  cable  when  I  noticed  the  nervous  sweat 
whidi  had  come  out  on  his  forehead. 

"Say,  Sister,  this  puts  the  drinks  on  us,"  he  de- 
clared, with  an  airiness  which  I  felt  to  be  as  unreal  as 
n^  own  inebriacy.  I  saw  him  motion  for  Uw  other 
two  to  seat  themsehres. 

They  did  so,  a  little  mystified,  each  man  keeping  hit 
eyes  fixed  on  the  youth  called  Tony.  The  ktter 
laughed,  for  no  reason  that  I  could  understaikl,  and 
over  his  shoulder  bawled  out  the  one  wcu-d,  "Shim- 
mey!" 

Shimmey,  I  remembered,  was  my  friend  the  wall- 
eyed waiter.  And  this  waiter  it  was  who  stepped  trail- 
ingly  into  the  room. 

"Shimmey,"  said  the  voluble  youth  at  my  side.  "We 
tntrooded  on  this  gen'lmun.  And  we  got  to  square 
ourselves.    So  what's  it  goin'  to  be?" 

"Nothin'l"  I  protested,  with  a  repi^;nant  wave  of 
the  hand.         / 

"You  mean  we  ain't  good  enough  for  you  to  drink 
witli?"  demanded  the  youth  called  Tony.  I  could  see 
what  he  wanted.  I  could  fed  what  was  coining.  He 
was  loddng  for  some  reason,  howevo-  tenuous,  to 
start  trouble.  Without  fail  he  would  find  it  in  time. 
But  my  <me  desire  was  to  defer  that  outcome  as  long 


194    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

at  pOMibtft    So  I  frinned  tMck  at  him,  rather  idioti- 
cally, rm  afraid 

"AU  righ',"  I  wealdy  agreed,  blinking  about  at  my 
tomientort.    ''Bring  me  a  bran'y  an'  soda." 

The  other  three  men  looked  at  the  waiter.  The 
waiter,  in  turn,  looked  at  them.  Then  he  studied  my 
&ce.  There  was  something  decidedly  unpleasant  in 
his  cddty  speculative  eyes. 

"Shimmey,d'you understand?  This genlmun  wants 
A  brandy  and  soda." 

The  waiter,  still  studying  me,  said  "Sure!"  Then 
he  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  out  of  the  room. 

I  knew,  in  my  prophetic  bones,  that  there  was  some 
form  of  trouble  iM'ewing  in  that  odoriferous  little 
room.  But  I  was  determined  to  side-step  it,  to  avoid 
it,  to  the  last  extremity.  And  I  was  still  nodding 
amiably  about  when  the  waiter  returned  with  his  tray 
of  glasses. 

"Well,  here's  how,"  said  the  youth,  and  we  all  lifted 
our  glasses. 

That  brandy  and  soda,  I  knew,  would  not  be  the 
best  of  its  kind.  I  also  clearly  saw  that  it  would  be 
unwise  to  decline  it.  So  I  swallowed  the  stuff  as  a 
child  swallows  medicine. 

I  downed  it  in  a  gulp  or  two,  and  put  the  glass 
back  on  the  table.  Then  I  proceeded  to  wipe  my 
mouth  with  the  back  of  my  hand,  after  the  approved 
fashion  of  my  environment. 

It  was  fortunate,  at  that  moment,  that  my  hand  was 
weH  up  in  front  of  my  face.  For  as  the  truth  of  the 
whole  thing  came  honw  to  me,  as  diarp  and  quidc  as 


^:| 


THE  PANAMA  GOLD  CHESTS        195 


an  electric  tpuk,  there  mutt  hive  been  a  Mcond  or  two 
when  my  r61e  slipped  away  from  me. 

I  had,  it  it  true,  inwardly  fortified  myidf  againit 
a  draught  that  would  prove  highly  unpakUal^.  But 
the  taste  which  I  now  detected,  the  acrid,  unmistakable, 
over-familiar  taste,  was  too  much  for  my  startled 
nerves.  I  hid  my  sudden  body-movement  only  by 
-neans  of  a  simulated  hiccough.  The  thing  I  had  un- 
mistakably tasted  was  chloral  hydrate.  They  had 
given  me  knodc-out  drqps. 

The  idea,  of  a  sudden,  struck  me  as  bdng  so  ludi- 
crous that  I  laughed.  The  mere  thought  of  any  such 
maneuver  was  too  mudi  for  me — ^the  foolish  hope  that 
a  homeopathic  little  pill  of  chloral  would  put  me  under 
the  table,  like  any  shopgirl  lured  from  a  dance-hall  1 
They  were  trying  to  drug  me.  Drug  me,  who  had 
taken  double  and  triple  doses  night  after  night  as  I 
fought  for  sleep! 

They  were  trying  to  drug  me,  me  who  en  my  bad 
nights  had  even  known  the  narcotic  to  be  forcibly 
wrested  from  my  dutdi  by  those  who  stood  uppf  ed 
at  the  quantities  that  my  too-immured  system  de- 
manded, and  knew  only  too  well  that  in  time  it  meant 
madness! 

But  I  remembered,  as  I  saw  the  three  men  staring^ 
at  me,  that  I  still  had  a  role  to  sustain.  I  knew  it 
would  be  unwise  to  let  those  sweet  worthies  know  just 
how  the  land  lay.  I  enjoyed  an  advantage  mudi  too 
exceptional  and  much  too  valuable  to  be  lightly  sur- 
rendered. 

So  to  an  outward  ngns  and  af^iearanca  I  let  the 


196    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

drug  do  its  work.  I  carcf  uUy  acted  out  my  pretended 
lapse  into  somnolent  indifference.  I  lost  the  power  to 
coordinate;  my  speech  grew  inarticulate:  my  shoul- 
dcrs  drooped  forward  across  the  table  edge.  I  wilted 
down  hke  a  cut  dock-weed,  until  my^ace  lay  flat 
agamst  the  beer-stained  wood. 

"He's  off,"  murmured  the  man  called  Chuck.  He 
rose  to  his  feet  as  he  spoke. 

"Then  we  got  to  beat  it,"  declared  the  youth  named 
Tony  alr^dy  on  his  fecL  I  could  hear  him  take  a 
deep  breath  as  he  stood  there.  "And  the  next  long 
nose  who  gives  me  heart  disease  like  this  is  goin'  to 
get  five  mches  o'  cold  steel !" 

He  knelt  before  me  as  he  spcke.  pulled  back  my  feet, 
and  ran  a  knife  edge  along  the  shoe  laces.  Then  he 
promptly  pulled  the  shoes  from  my  feet  These  shoes, 
apparently,  he  kept  in  his  hand.  "That'U  help  ancho^ 
im,  I  guess,"  I  heard  him  remark. 

V  J*^' •  ^  °"  ^"^  ^°*''"  '"««^*^  ^^  Wff  'nan.  olx 
viously  impatient  at  the  delay.    "If  there's  nothin'  but 

^c  inches  o  plank  between  us  and  that  gold,  let's  get 
I  sat  there  with  my  head  on  that  table  top  so 

listened  to  t^em  as  they  moved  across  the  room.    I 

S  r  "^r  ^'!^  °"*  *"^  '^""^  *<^  ^oor  shut 
behind  hem.  I  waited  there  for  another  minute  or 
two.  without  moving,  knowing  only  too  well  what  a 
second  discovery  would  entail. 
^^T^^  was  stin  bent  over  that  unclean  table  top 
when  I  heard  the  brdcen-latched  door  once  mc^ 


THE  PANAMA  GOLD  CHESTS 


197 


pushed  slowly  open,  and  steps  slowly  croM  the  flo<M* 
to  where  I  sat. 

Some  one,  I  knew,  was  staring  down  at  me.  I  felt 
four  distended  finger-tips  pu^  inquisitively  at  n^ 
head,  rolling  it  a  little  to  one  side.  Then  the  figure 
bending  above  me  shifted  its  position.  A  hand  felt 
cautiously  about  my  body.  It  strayed  lower,  until  it 
reached  my  watch  pocket 

I  could  see  nothing  of  nay  enemy's  face,  and  noth- 
ing of  his  figure.  All  I  got  a  glin^  of  was  a  patch 
"of  extremely  soiled  linen.  But  that  glimpse  was  suf- 
ficient It  was  my  friend,  the  wall-eyed  waiter,  reso- 
lutely deciding  to  make  hay  while  the  sun  shone.  And 
that  decided  me. 

With  one  movement  I  rose  from  the  chair  and 
wheeled  about  so  as  to  face  lum.  That  quick  body- 
twist  spun  his  own  figure  half-way  around. 

My  fist  caught  him  on  the  foreward  side  of  the  re- 
laxed jawbone.  He  struck  the  worn  leather  couch  as 
he  fell,  and  then  rolled  completely  over,  as  inert  as 
a  sack  of  bran. 

I  looked  down  at  him  for  a  moment  or  two  as  he 
lay  face  toward  on  the  floor.  Then  I  dropped  on  oat 
knee  beside  him,  unlaced  his  well-worn  and  square- 
toed  shoes,  and  calmly  but  quietly  adjusted  them  to 
my  own  feet 

Once  out  in  the  street  I  qtiickoied  my  8te{»  and 
rounded  the  first  ocntier.  Then  I  hurried  on,  turning 
still  another,  and  still  another,  making  doubly  sure  I 
was  leavtng  no  chance  to  be  trailed.  Tben  I  swung 
aboard  a  cross-town  caj-,  aliglvdng  ^;aiQ  at  a  c<»mer 


u 


1  -ii 


i-i  it 


198    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

flashing  with  the  vulgar  brilliance  of  an  all-night  drug 
store. 

I  went  straight  to  the  telephone  booth  of  that  drug 
store,  and  there  I  promptly  called  up  police  headquar- 
ters. I  felt,  as  I  asked  for  Lieutenant  Bclton,  a  person 
of  some  importance.  Then  I  waited  while  the  precious 
moments  flew  by. 

Lieutenant  Belton,  I  was  finally  informed,  was  at 
his  room  in  the  Hotel  York,  on  Seventh  Avenue.  So 
I  rang  up  the  Hotel  York,  only  to  be  informed  that  the 
lieutenant  was  not  in. 

I  slammed  the  receiver  down  on  its  hook  and  ended 
that  foolish  colloquy.  I  first  thought  of  Patrohnan 
McCooey.  Then  I  thought  of  Doyle,  and  then  of 
Creegan,  my  old  detective  friend.  Then  with  a  jaw- 
grip  of  determination  I  caught  that  receiver  up  again, 
ordered  a  taxicab,  paid  for  my  calls,  consulted  my 
watch,  and  paced  up  and  down  like  a  caged  hyena, 
waiting  for  my  cab. 

Another  precious  ten  minutes  slipped  away  before 
I  got  to  Creegan's  door  in  Forty-third  Street.  Then  I 
punched  the  bell-button  above  the  mail-box,  and  stood 
there  with  my  finger  on  it  for  exactly  a  minute  and  a 
half. 

I  suddenly  remembered  that  the  clicking  door 
latch  beside  me  implied  that  my  entrance  was  being 
automatically  solicited.  I  stepped  into  the  dimly  light- 
ed hall  and  made  my  way  determinedly  up  the  narrow 
carpeted  stairs,  knowing  I  would  get  face  to  face  with 
Creegan  if  I  had  to  crawl  through  a  fanlight  and  pound 
in  his  bedroom  door. 


n 


THE  PANAMA  GOLD  CHESTS         199 

But  it  was  Grecian  himself  who  confronted  me  as 
I  swung  about  the  banister  turn  of  that  shadowy  sec- 
ond landing. 

"You  wake  those  kids  up,"  he  solemnly  informed 
me,  "and  m  kill  you!" 

"Greegan,"  I  cried,  and  it  seemed  foolish  that  I 
should  have  to  inveigle  and  coax  him  into  a  crusade 
which  meant  infinitely  more  to  him  than  to  me,  "I'm 
going  to  make  you  famous !" 

"How  soon?"  he  diflSdently  inquired. 

"Insidr:  of  two  hours'  time,"  was  my  answer. 

"Don't  wake  those  kidst"  he  commanded,  looking 
bade  oiver  his  shoulder. 

I  caught  him  by  the  sleeve,  and  held  him  there,  for 
some  vague  premonition  of  a  sudden  withdrawal  and 
a  bolted  door  made  me  desperate.  And  time,  I  knew, 
was  getting  short 

"For  heaven's  sake,  listen  to  me,"  I  said  as  I  held 
him.  And  as  he  stood  there  under  the  singing  gas-jet, 
with  his  hurriedly  lit  and  skeptically  tilted  stogie 
in  one  comer  of  his  mouth,  I  told  him  in  as  few  ^\  rds 
as  I  could  what  had  happened  that  night 

"Gome  in  while  I  get  me  boots  on,"  he  quietly  re- 
marked, leading  me  into  an  unfighted  hallway  and  from 
that  into  a  bedroom  about  the  size  of  a  ship's  calm 
"And  speak  low,"  he  said,  with  a  nod  toward  tfie  rear 
end  of  the  hall.  Then  as  Iw  sat  (m  the  edge  of  the  bed 
pulling  on  his  shoes  he  ma(te  me  recount  everything 
for  the  second  time,  slofiping  me  with  an  occasional 
qtwstion,  fixti^  me  oceasiomdly  with  a  cogitative  eye. 

"But  we  haven't  a  minute  to  hMe,"  I  muned  him, 


i  : 


-i  ■ 


i 


•I    I 


: 


aoo    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP    ' 

for  the  second  time,  as  he  slipped  away  into  a  remoter 
cubby-hole  of  a  room  to  see,  as  he  put  it,  "if  the  kids 
were  keeping  covered." 

He  rejoined  me  at  the  stairhead,  with  the  softest 
of  Irish  smiles  still  on  his  face.  By  the  time  we  had 
reached  the  street  and  stepped  into  the  waiting  taxi, 
that  smile  had  disappeared.  He  merely  smoked 
another  stogie  as  we  made  our  way  toward  the  end 
of  Twenty-eighth  Street 

At  Tenth  Avenue,  he  suddenly  decided  it  was  better 
for  us  to  go  on  foot.  So  he  threw  away  his  stogie  end, 
a  little  ruefully,  and  led  me  down  a  street  as  narrow 
and  empty  as  a  river  bed.  He  led  me  into  a  part  of 
New  York  that  I  had  never  before  known.  It  was 
a  district  of  bald  brick  walls,  of  roug^  flag  and  cobble- 
stone underfoot,  of  lonely  street  lamps,  of  shipping 
platforms  and  unbroken  warehouse  sides,  of  storage 
yards  and  milk  depots,  with  railway  tracks  bisecting 
streets  as  empty  as  though  they  were  the  streets  of  a 
dead  city.  No  one  appeared  before  us.  Nothmggave 
signs  of  being  alive  in  that  area  of  desolate  ugliness 
which  seemed  like  the  back  yard  of  aU  the  worW  con- 
centrated in  a  few  huddled  squares. 

We  were  almost  on  West  Street  itself  before  I  was 
conscious  of  the  periodic  sound  of  boat  whistles  com- 
plaining through  the  night.  The  air,  I  noticed,  took 
on  a  fresher  and  cleaner  smclL  Creegan,  without 
speaking,  drew  me  in  close  to  a  wall-end.  at  the  comer, 
and  together  we  stood  staring  out  toward  the  Hudson! 

Directly  in  front  of  us,  beyond  a  forest  of  bantlt 
which  stippled  the  asphalt,  a  veritable  dty  of  barrels 


THE  PANAMA  GOLD  CHESTS         201 

that  looked  like  tiie  stumpage  of  a  burned-over  Do\^^ 
las-pme  woodland,  stood  the  fagade  of  the  Panama 
Company s  pier  structure.  It  looked  substantial  and 
solemn  enot^,  under  its  sober  sheeting  of  corru- 
gated iron.  And  two  equally  solemn  figures,  somber 
and  silent  in  their  dark  overcoats,  stood  impassively 
on  guard  before  its  closed  doors. 

"Come  on,"  Creegan  finally  whispered,  walking 
quickly  south  to  the  end  of  Twenty-seventh  Street. 
He  suddenly  stopped  and  caught  at  my  arm  to  arrest 
my  own  steps.  We  stood  there,  listening.  Out  of  the 
silence,  iq>parently  f  nmi  mid-river,  sounded  the  quidc 
staccato  coughing  of  a  gasoline  motor.  It  sounded 
for  a  moment  or  two,  and  then  it  grew  silent 

We  stood  there  without  moving.  Then  the  figure 
at  my  side  seemed  stung  into  sudden  madness.  With- 
out a  word  of  warning  or  explanation,  my  companion 
dudced  down  and  went  dodging  m  and  out  between 
the  huddled  clumps  of  barrels,  threading  a  circuitous 
path  toward  the  slip  edge.  I  saw  him  drop  down  on 
all  fours  and  peer  over  the  string-piece.  Then  I  saw 
him  draw  back,  rise  to  his  feet,  and  run  northward 
toward  the  pier  door  where  the  two  watdmien  stood. 

What  he  said  to  those  watdmien  I  had  no  means  of 
knowing.  One  of  them,  however,  swung  about  and 
tattooed  on  the  door  with  a  night-stick  before  Creegan 
could  catch  at  his  arm  and  stop  him.  Before  I  could 
join  them,  some  one  from  within  had  thrown  open  the 
door.  I  saw  Creegan  and  die  first  man  dive  into  the 
chin-aired,  high-vaulted  building,  with  its  exotk  odors 
of  si»ce  and  coffee  and  mysterious  trofncal  bales.    I 


¥  ■ 


i      5 


202    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

heard  somebody  call  out  to  turn  on  the  lights,  and 
then  Creegan's  disgustedly  warning  voice  call  back  for 
him  to  shut  up.  Then  somewhere  in  the  gloom  inside 
a  further  coUoquy  took  place,  a  tangle  of  voices,  a  caU 
for  quietness,  followed  by  a  sibilant  hiss  of  caution. 

Creegan  appeared  in  the  doorway  again.  I  could 
see  that  he  was  motionmg  for  me. 

"Come  on,"  he  whispered.  And  I  tiptoed  in  after 
him,  under  that  echoing  vaulted  roof  where  the  outline 
of  a  wheeled  gangway  looked  oddly  like  the  skeleton 
of  some  great  dinosaur,  and  the  pungent  spicy  odors 
took  me  at  one  breath  two  thousand  miles  southward 
into  the  Tropics. 

"Take  off  those  shoes,"  quietly  commanded  Creegan. 
And  I  dropped  beside  him  on  the  bare  pier  planks  and 
slipped  my  feet  out  of  Shimmey's  ungainly  toed  shoes. 

A  man  moved  aside  from  a  door  as  we  stepped 
silently  up  to  it.  Creegan  turned  to  whisper  a  word 
or  two  in  his  ear.  Then  he  opened  the  door  and  led 
me  by  the  sleeve  into  the  utter  darkness  within,  clos- 
ing and  locking  the  door  after  him. 

I  was  startled  by  the  sudden  contact  of  Creegan's 
groping  fingers.  I  realized  that  he  was  thrusting  a 
short  cylindrical  object  up  against  my  body 

"Take  this,"  he  whispered. 

"What  is  it?*'  I  demanded  in  an  answering  whisper. 

•It's  a  flashlight    Press  here— see!    And  throw  it 
on  when  I  say  so!" 

I  took  the  flashlight,  pressed  as  he  told  me,  and  saw 
a  feeble  glow  of  light  from  its  glass-g»obed  end.  About 
this  end  he  had  swathed  a  cotton  pocket  handkerchief 


THE  PANAMA  GOLD  CHESTS         203 

More  actual  illumination  would  have  come  from  a 
tallow  candle.  But  it  seemed  sufficient  for  Creegan'a 
purpose.  I  could  see  him  peer  about,  step  across  to  a 
pile  of  stout  wooden  boxes,  count  them,  testone  as  to 
its  weight,  squint  bnce  more  searchingly  about  the 
room,  and  then  drop  full  length  on  the  plank  flooring 
and  press  his  ear  to  the  wood. 

He  writhed  and  crawled  about  there,  from  one  quar- 
ter of  the  room  to  another,  every  minute  or  so  pressing 
an  ear  against  the  boards  under  him,  for  all  the  world 
like  a  physician  sounding  a  patient's  lungs.  He  kept 
returning,  I  noticed,  to  one  area  in  the  center  of  the 
room,  not  more  than  a  yard  away  from  the  pile  of 
wooden  boxes.  Then  he  leaned  forward  on  his  knees, 
his  hands  supporting  his  body  in  a  grotesque  bear-like 
posture.  He  continued  to  kneel  there,  intently  watch- 
ing the  oak  plank  directly  in  front  of  him. 

I  saw  one  hand  suddenly  move  forward  and  feel 
along  an  inch  or  two  of  this  plank,  come  to  a  stop,  and 
then  suddenly  raise  and  wave  in  the  air.  I  did  not 
realize,  at  ihzt  moment,  that  the  signal  was  for  me. 

"Put  her  out,"  he  whispered.  And  as  I  lifted  my 
thumb  from  the  contact  point  the  room  was  again 
plunged  into  utter  darkness.  Yet  through  that  dark- 
ness I  could  hear  a  distinct  sotmd,  a  minute  yet  un- 
mistakable noise  of  splintering  wood,  followed  by  an 
even  louder  sound,  as  though  an  auger  were  being 
withdrawn  from  a  hole  in  the  planking  at  my  feet 

Then  up  from  the  floor  on  which  Creegan  knelt 
a  thin  ray  of  light  flickered  and  wavered  and  disap- 
peared.   A  rund>le  of  guarded  vdices  crq>t  to  my  ears, 


:'  I- 


204    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

and  again  I  could  detect  that  faint  yet  pregnant  gnaw^ 
ing  sound  as  the  busy  auger  once  more  ate  into  the 
oalc  i^anking  on  which  we  stood. 

I  suddenly  felt  Creegan's  hand  grope  against  my 
knee.    He  rose  to  his  feet  beside  me. 

"It's  all  right,"  he  whispered,  with  a  cabnness  which 
left  me  a  little  ashamed  of  my  own  excitement  "You 
stay  here  until  I  come  back." 

I  stood  there  listening  to  the  slight  noise  of  the  door 
as  he  opened  it  and  closed  it  after  him.  I  stood  there 
as  I  once  more  heard  the  telltale  splintering  of  wood, 
indicating  that  the  auger  had  completed  its  second  hole 
through  the  planking.  Then  came  the  sound  of  its 
withdrawal,  and  again  the  wavering  pencil  of  light  as 
the  men  under  the  pier  examined  their  work  aad 
adjusted  their  auger-end  for  its  next  perforation. 

A  new  anxiety  began  to  weigh  on  me.  I  began  to 
wonder  what  could  be  keeping  Creegan  so  long.  I 
grew  terrified  at  the  thought  that  he  might  be  too  Urte. 
Vague  contingencies  on  which  I  had  failed  to  reckon 
began  to  present  themselves  to  me.  I  realized  that 
those  three  desperate  men,  once  they  saw  I  was  again 
coming  between  them  and  their  ends,  would  be  satis- 
fied with  no  half  measure. 

Then  occurred  a  movement  which  nearly  brought 
a  cry  from  my  startled  lips.  A  hand,  reaching  slowly 
out  through  the  darkness,  came  in  contact  with  my 
knee,  and  dutched  it.  That  contact,  coming  as  it  did 
without  warning,  without  reason,  sent  a  horripilating 
diill  through  all  my  body.  The  wonder  was  that  I 
did  not  kick  out,  Hke  a  frightened  colt,  or  start  to  flail 


It    h 


THE  PANAMA  GOLD  CHESTS        205 

about  mewhh  my  fltsMiiH  AH  I  did.  however,  was 
to  twist  and  swiiigr  vmy.  Yet  before  I  could  get  to 
my  feet,  the  hand  had  dntcfaed  the  side  of  my  coat 
And  as  those  dutching  fingers  held  there,  I  heard  a 
voice  whisper  out  of  the  darkness: 

''Here,  take  this,"  and  the  moment  I  heard  it  I  was 
able  to  breathe  agahi,  for  I  knew  it  was  Creegan. 
"You  may  need  it" 

He  was  hokling  what  I  took  to  be  a  policeman's 
night-stick  up  hi  front  of  me.  I  took  it  from  him, 
marveltng  how  he  couM  have  re-entered  that  room 
without  toy  hearing  him. 

'There's  a  light-switch  agamst  the  watt  there,  they 
say,"  was  his  next  whispered  message  to  me.  "Find 
it  Keep  back  there  and  throw  it  on  if  I  give  the 
word." 

I  f dt  and  pawed  and  padded  about  At  waU  for 
an  uncertain  moment  or  twa  "Got  it?"  came  Cree- 
gan's  whispering  voice  across  the  darknen. 

"Yes."  I  whispered  bade. 

He  did  not  sjwak  again,  for  a  newer  somid  fdl  on 
both  his  ears  and  mine.  It  was  a  sound  of  prod^og 
and  prying,  as  though  the  men  bdow  were  jinvnyhig 
at  their  loosened  square  of  {banking. 

I  leaned  forward,  listening,  for  I  could  hear  iht 
squeak  and  grate  of  the  shiftmg  thnber  btock.  I  did  . 
not  hear  it  actually  fall  away.  But  I  was  suddenly 
consdous  of  a  breath  of  cooler  air  in  die  nota  where  I 
stood  and  the  pernstent  ripple  of  wal^  agamst  pik- 
ddes. 

Then  I  heard  a  treble  voice  say,  "A  littie  higher.*' 


,1 


ao6    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

The  ipeaker  seemed  so  dose  that  I  felt  I  could  have 
itooped  down  and  touched  his  body.  I  knew,  even 
before  I  saw  the  spurt  of  flame  where  he  struck  a  match 
atong  the  floor,  that  the  man  was  ahready  half-way 
up  through  the  hole.  I  could  see  the  dirt-covered, 
claw-like  hand  as  it  held  the  match,  nursing  the  thiy 
flame,  patiently  waiting  for  it  to  grow.  It  was  not 
until  this  hand  held  the  flaring  match  up  before  his 
very  face  that  Creegan  moved. 

That  movement  was  as  simple  as  it  was  unexpected 
I  had  no  distinct  vision  of  it,  but  I  knew  what  it 
meant  I  knew,  the  moment  I  heard  the  dull  and  sick- 
ening impact  of  seasoned  wood  against  a  human  skull- 
bone. 

There  was  just  one  Wow.  But  it  was  so  well  placed 
that  a  second  seemed  unnecessary.  Then,  as  far  as 
I  could  judge,  Creegan  took  hold  of  the  stunned  man 
and  drew  him  bodily  up  through  the  hole  in  the  floor. 

A  moment  later  a  voice  was  saying,  "Here,  pull!" 
And  I  knew  that  the  second  man  was  on  his  way  up 
into  the  room. 

What  prevented  Creegan  from  repeating  his  ma- 
neuver with  the  night-stick  I  could  not  teU.  But  I 
knew  the  second  attack  was  not  the  clean-cut  job  of 
the  first,  for  even  as  Creegan  seized  the  body  half-way 
up  through  the  opening,  the  struggle  must  have  begun. 

The  consciousness  that  that  struggle  was  not  to  be 
promptly  decided,  that  a  third  factor  might  at  any 
moment  appear  in  the  fight,  stung  me  into  the  neces- 
sity of  some  sort  of  Mind  action  on  my  own  part  I 
remembered  the  first  man,  and  that  he  would  surely 


1 


i*y 


THE  PANAMA  GOLD  CHESTS        Jo; 

be  armed  I  ran  out  toward  the  center  of  the  room, 
stuipbled  over  the  boxes  of  gold,  and  feU  tprawling 
along  the  floor.  Without  to  much  at  getting  on  n^ 
feet  again  I  grope  out  until  I  found  the  prottrate 
body.  It  took  me  only  a  moment  to  feel  about  that 
limp  mass,  discover  the  revolver,  and  draw  it  from 
iu  pocket  I  was  still  on  my  knees  when  I  heard 
Creegan  call  out  through  the  darkness. 
"The  lightr  he  gasped.  "Turn  on  the  light r 
I  swung  reddessly  about  at  the  note  of  alarm  hi  his 
voice  and  tried  to  grope  my  way  toward  Wm.  Only 
some  test  extremity  could  have  wrung  tiiat  call  from 
him.  It  was  only  too  phUn  that  his  position  was  now 
a  perilous  one.  But  what  that  peril  was  I  could  not 
decipher. 

"Where  are  you?*'  I  gasped,  feeUng  that  wherever 
he  by  he  needed  help,  that  the  quickest  service  I  could 
render  him  would  be  to  reach  his  side 
"The  light,  you  fool!"  he  cr:  J  out  'TheUghtr 
I  dodged  and  groped  back  to  the  wall  where  I  felt 
the  light-switch  to  be.  I  had  my  fingers  actually  on  the 
switch  when  an  arm  like  the  arm  of  a  derrick  itself 
swung  about  through  the  darkness,  and  at  one  stroke 
knocked  the  breath  out  of  my  body  and  flattened  me 
against  the  wall  Before  I  could  recover  my  breath, 
a  second  movement  spun  me  half  around  and  lifted 
me  dear  off  my  feet  By  this  time  the  great  arm  was 
close  about  me,  pinnii^  n^  haikb  down  to  my  dde. 

Before  I  could  cry  out  or  make  an  effort  to  eso^ 
the  great  hulk  holding  me  had  shifted  his  grip,  bringing 
me  abottf  directly  in  front  of  him  and  boMin^  me  there 


KJ£^ 


ao8    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


111! 


Ifff 


ii; 


with  nicfa  a  powerful  gnap  that  It  made  breathing  a 
thing  of  torture.  And  at  he  held  me  there,  he  reached 
out  and  turned  on  the  light  with  hit  own  hand  I 
knew,  e?cn  before  I  actualljr  law  him,  tiiat  it  wat  the 
third  man. 

I  alM  knew,  even  before  that  light  came  on,  what 
his  purpoie  was.  He  was  holding  me  there  as  a 
shield  in  front  of  him.  This  much  I  realized  even 
before  I  saw  the  revolver  with  which  he  was  menacing 
the  enemy  in  front  of  him.  What  hekl  my  blinking 
and  bewildered  eyes  was  the  fact  that  Creegan  him- 
self, on  the  far  side  of  the  room,  was  holding  the 
ttruggling  and  twisting  lody  of  the  man  called  Red- 
ney  in  precisely  the  same  position. 

But  what  disheartened  me  was  the  discovery  that 
Creegan  held  nothing  but  a  night-stick  in  his  left  hand 
All  the  strength  of  his  right  hand,  I  could  see,  was 
needed  to  hold  his  man.  And  his  revohrer  was  still 
in  his  pocket. 

I  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  remember  my  own 
revolver.  And  my  predicament  made  me  desperate. 
That  gang  had  sown  their  dragon  teeth,  I  decided, 
and  now  Uiey  could  reap  their  harvest 

I  made  a  pretense  of  struggling  away  from  my  cap- 
tor's clutch»  but  all  the  while  I  was  worWng  one  elbow 
back,  farther  and  farther  back,  so  that  a  hand  could 
be  thrust  into  my  coat  pocket  I  reached  the  pocket 
without  being  noticed  My  fingers  closed  about  the 
butt  of  the  revolver.  .\nd  still  my  purpose  had  not 
been  discovered 

As  I  lifted  that  firearm  from  my  pocket  I  was  no 


THE  PANAICA!  GOLD  CRESTS        S09 

iongv  A  rcuoninf  mmtii  Dtu^*  At  Qw  msm  imt 
I  fdt  diif  red  flash  of  rife  through  nj  bod)r»  I  alio 
f dt  the  chitch  about  nqr  wdtt  rdax.  The  Ug  maa 
behind  me  was  ejaculadog  a  tingle  word.  It  wai 
"Cretgimr' 

Why  that  one  shout  shonld  have  the  dcbifitathig 
effect  on  Creegan  whkh  it  did,  I  had  no  means  of 
knowing.  But  I  saw  the  swcat^«tahied  and  blood- 
marlced  face  of  my  ooHeague  soddenljr  diange.  His 
eyes  stared  sttipidly»  his  jaw  feU,  and  he  itood  there, 
panting  and  open-moothed,  u  tiioiigh  the  UMt  drop  of 
courage  had  been  driven  out  of  his  body. 

I  feh  that  he  was  giving  up,  that  he  was  surrender- 
ing, even  before  I  saw  him  let  tfw  man  he  had  been 
holding  fall  away  from  him.  But  I  remembered  the 
revolver  in  my  hand  and  the  igcotnfaiies  I  had  suffered. 
And  again  I  felt  that  wave  of  smnething  stronger 
than  my  own  will,  and  I  knew  that  my  moment  had 
come. 

I  had  the  revolver  at  half-arm,  with  its  muzzle  in 
against  the  body  crushing  mine,  when  Creegan's  voice, 
sharp  and  short  as  a  baric  armted  that  impending 
finger-twitch. 

"Stop  t"  he  cried,  and  the  horror  of  his  voice  puzzled 
me. 

"Why?"  I  demanded  in  a  new  and  terriUe  cafan. 
But  I  did  not  lower  my  revolver. 

"Stop  thatl"  he  shouted,  and  his  newer  note,  nK>re 
of  anger  than  fear,  bewildered  me  a  tnt 

"Whyr 

But  Creq;an,  as  he  caught  at  the  coat  coQar  of  tiie 


12IO    THE  MAN  ^VHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 


• , 


man  called  Redncy,  did  not  answer  my  repeated  ques- 
tion. Instead,  he  stared  at  the  man  beside  me. 
"Well,  I'll  be  damned!"  he  finally  murmured. 
"What  t'  heU  are  you  doin'  here  ?"  cut  in  the  big  man 
as  he  pushed  my  revolver-end  away  and  dropped  his 
own  gun  into  his  pocket  "I've  been  trailin'  these 
guys  for  five  weeks— and  I  want  to  know  why  you're 
queerin'  my  job!" 

Creegan,  who  had  been  feeling  his  front  teeth  be- 
tween an  investigatory  thumb  and  forefinger,  blinked 
up  at  the  big  man.  Then  he  turned  angrily  on  me. 
•  "Put  down  that  gun!"  he  howled.  He  took  a  deep 
breath.  Then  he  laughed,  mirthlessly,  disgustedly. 
"You  can't  shoot  him!" 
"Why  can't  I?" 

"He's  a  stool  pigeon !  A  singed  cat  !** 
"And  what's  a  stool  pigeon?"  I  demanded.    "And 
what's  a  singed  cat?" 

Creegan  laughed  for  the  second  time  as  he  wiped 
his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his  hand. 

"He's  a  Headquarters  gink  who  stays  on  the  fence, 
and  tries  to  hunt  with  the  hounds  the  same  time  he's 
runnin'  with  the  hares— and  gener'ly  goes  round 
queerin'  an  honest  officer's  work.  And  I  guess  he's 
queered  ours.  So  about  the  only  thing  for  us  to  do, 
*s  far  as  I  can  see,  is  for  us  to  crawl  oflF  home  and 
gotobedr 


CHAPTER  Vin 

t 

THE  DUMMY-CHUCKSB 

'WT  WAS  unquestionnbjy  a  iiiomentoos  night,  that 
*  night  I  discharged  I^trdlle.  I  Ijad  felt  the  thing 
coming,  for  weeks.  B  it  I  had  apfvirently  been  afraid 
to  face  it  I  had  temporized  aiid  flallied  alcmg,  dread- 
ing the  ordeaL  Twice  I  had  even  bowed  to  tadt  black- 
mail, suavely  disguised  as  mere  advances  of  salary. 
Ahnost  daily,  too,  I  had  been  subjected  to  vague  in- 
solences which  were  all  the  more  humiliating  because 
they  remained  inarticulate  and  incontestable.  And  I 
realized  that  the  thing  had  to  come  to  an  end. 

I  saw  that  end  when  Benson  reported  to  me  that 
Latreille  had  none  too  quietly  entertained  a  friend 
of  his  in  my  study,  during  my  absence.  I  could  have 
forgiven  the  loss  of  the  cigars,  and  the  disappearance 
of  the  cognac,  but  the  foot-marks  on  my  treasured  old 
San  Domingoan  mahogany  console-table  and  the  over- 
turning of  my  Ch'ien-lung  lapis  bottle  were  things 
whidi  could  not  be  overlooked. 

I  saw  red,  at  that,  and  pronqitfy  and  unquaveringly 
sent  for  Latreille.  And  I  think  I  rather  surprised  that 
cool-eyed  sco«mdrel,  for  I  had  grown  to  know  life  a 
little  better,  of  late.  I  had  learned  to  stand  less  timor- 
ous before  its  darker  sides  and  its  rougher  seams.  I 
could  show  that  designing  chauffeur  I  was  no  kmger 
in  his  power  by  showing  that  I  was  no  kmger  airaid 
of  him.    And  this  latter  I  sought  to  demonstrate  by 

2X1 


I 


212    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


i.i>  ■ 


promptly  and  cahnly  and  unequivocally  announcing 
that  he  was  from  that  day  and  that  hour  discharged 
from  my  service. 

"You  can't  do  itl"  he  said,  staring  at  me  with  sur- 
prised yet  ncme  the  less  insolent  eyes. 

"I  have  done  it,"  I  cxplamed.    'Tou'rc  discharged, 
now.    And  the  sooner  you  get  out  the  better  it  will 
:  suit  me." 

"And  you're  ready  to  take  that  risk?"  he  demanded, 
studying  me  from  under  his  lowered  brows. 

"Any  risks  I  care  to  assume  in  this  existence  of 
mine,"  I  coolly  informed  him,  "are  matters  which 
concern  me  afone.  Turn  your  keys  and  service-clothes 
and  things  in  to  Benson.  And  if  there's  one  item 
missing,  you'll  pay  for  it" 

"How?"  he  demanded,  with  a  sneer. 

"By  being  put  where  you  belong,"  I  told  him. 

"And  Where's  that?" 

"Behind  bars." 

He  laughed  at  this.  But  he  stopped  sh<»t  as  he 
saw  me  go  out  to  the  door  and  fling  it  open.  Then 
he  turned  and  faced  me. 

"I'll  make  things  interesting  for  your  he  an- 
nounced, sbwly  and  pregnantly,  and  with  aa  ugly  for- 
ward-thrust of  Ins  ugly  pointed  chin. 

It  was  my  .turn  to  laugh. 

"You  havf  made  them  interesting,"  I  acknowledged. 
"But  now  they  are  getting  monotonous." 

They  won't  stay  that  way,"  he  averred. 

I  met  his  eye,  without  a  wince.  I  could  fed  my 
fighting  Uood  getti^  hotter  and  hotter. 


THE  DUMMY-CHUCKER  mj 

•*Yoa  understand  EngHsh,  don't  you?"  I  told  Wm. 
"You  heard  me  say  get  out,  didn't  you?" 

He  stared  at  me,  with  that  black  scowl  of  Ws,  for 
a  full  half  minute.  Then  he  turned  on  his  heel  and 
stalked  out  of  the  room. 

I  wasn't  sorry  to  see  him  go,  but  I  knew,  as  he 
went,  that  he  was  carrying  away  with  him  something 
predous.  He  was  carrying  away  with  him  my  peace 
of  mind  for  that  whole  blessed  night 

Sleep,  I  knew,  was  out  of  the  question.  It  would 
be  foolish  even  to  attempt  to  court  it  I  felt  the 
familiar  neurasthenic  call  for  open  spaces,  the  nece*. 
sity  for  jAysical  freedom  and  fresh  air.  And  it  was 
that  I  suppose,  which  took  me  wandermg  off  v -ward 
the  water-front,  where  I  sat  on  a  atring-piec«  snicking 
my  seventh  cigarette  and  thinking  of  Cretan  and  his 
singed  cat  as  I  watched  the  light-spangled  Hudson. 

I  had  squatted  there  for  a  full  half-hour,  I  think, 
before  I  became  even  vaguely  conscious  of  the  oflier 
presence  so  near  me.  I  had  no  clear-cut  memory  of 
that  figure's  advent  i  had  no  im^esdon  of  its  move- 
ment about  my  immediate  neighborhood,  I  fed  sore, 
until  my  self-absorbed  meditations  wer*  brolEen  into 
by  the  ^scovery  that  the  stranger  on  the  s^ihi  wittrf 
where  I  loitered  had  quietfy  and  ddi^erat^  Hsen 
to  an  erect  position.    It  startled  fl«  a  Btfle,  in  &ct.  to 

find  that  he  was  standing  at  one  end  of  the  saute  string- 
piece  where  I  si^ 

ThM  aometUs^  about  ftut  figui^  brought  a  ttow 
perplexity  into  my  mind,  as  I  k>unged  thete  tnha!^ 
the  musky  harboiH>dors,  under  a  ifcy  ^kik  mmtd 


214    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

Italian  in  its  serenity,  and  a  soft  and  silvery  moot 
that  made  die  shutUing  ferries  into  shadows  scaled 
with  Roman  gold.     This  peiplexity  grew  into  be- 
wildemcnt,  for  as  I  studied  the  lean  figure  with  its 
loose-fittmg  paddock-coat  flapping  in  the  wharf-end 
breeze  I  was  reminded  of  something  disturbing   of 
something  awesome.  The  gaunt  form  so  voluminously 
draped,  the  cadaverous  face  with  the  startUngly  sunken 
cheeks   the  touch  of  tragedy  in  the  entire  attitude, 
brought  sharply  and  suddenly  to  my  mind  the  thought 
of  a  shrouded  and  hollow-eyed  symbol  of  Death,  need- 
ing only  the  scythe  of  honored  tradition  to  translate 
It  mto  the  finished  picture. 

He  stood  there  for  some  time,  without  moving, 
studymg  the  water  that  ran  like  seamless  black  velvet 
under  the  wharf-end.    Then  he  slowly  took  off  his 

T:      ?^.'*  ^?  P^'"^  ''  °"  **  string-piece,  and 
on  top  of  this  agam  placed  his  hat.    Then  he  laughed 

audiWy^    I.Iooked  away,  dreading  that  some  spoken 
tnviaUty  imght  spoil  a  picture  so  appealingly  mys- 
tenons     When  I  next  peered  up  at  him  he  seemed 
engaged  m  the  absurd  occupation  of  slowly  turning 
mside  out  the  quite  empty  pockets  of  his  clothing 
Then  he  once  more  looked  down  at  the  black  water 
Those  oily  velvet  eddies,  apparently,  were  too  much 
for  him.    I  saw  him  cover  his  face  with  his  hands 
and  sv^y  bade  vdth  a  tragicaUy  helpless  mutter  of 
I  cant  do  itl     And  both  the  gesture  and  the  wotds 

made  my  mind  go  back  to  the  man  from  Medicine 
Hat. 

A  thousand  crawling  little  tendrils  of  curiosity  over- 


THE  DUMMY-CHUCKER 


JI5 


nm  resentment  at  being  thus  disturbed  in  my  quest 
for  solitude.  I  continued  my  overt  watch  of  the  in- 
credibly thin  stranger  who  was  still  peering  down  at 
the  slip-water.  I  was  startled,  a  minute  or  two  later, 
to  hear  him  emit  a  throat-chuckle  that  was  as  defiant 
as  it  was  disagreeable.  Then  with  an  oddly  nervous 
gesture  of  repudiation  he  caught  up  his  hat  and  coat, 
turned  on  his  hed,  and  passed  like  a  shadow  down 
the  quietness  of  the  deserted  wharf. 

I  turned  and  followed  him.  The  tragedy  recorded 
on  that  pallid  face  was  above  all  pretense.  He  could 
never  be  taken  for  a  "dummy-chucker" ;  the  thing  was 
genuine.  Any  man  who  could  squeeze  life  so  dry  that 
he  thought  of  tossing  it  away  like  an  orange-skin  was 
worth  following.  He  seemed  a  contradiction  to  every- 
thmg  in  the  city  that  surrounded  us,  in  that  mad  city 
where  every  mortal  appeared  so  intent  on  living,  where 
the  forlomest  wrecks  clung  so  feverishly  to  life,  and 
where  life  itself,  on  that  munnurous  and  moonlit 
night,  seemed  so  full  of  whispered  promises. 

I  followed  him  back  to  the  dty,  specuhiting,  as  idle 
minds  will,  on  who  and  what  he  was  and  by  what 
mischance  he  had  been  cast  into  this  k>west  pit  of 
indifferency.  More  things  than  his  mere  apparel  as- 
sured me  he  was  not  a  "crust-thmwer."  I  kept  close 
at  his  heeb  until  we  came  to  Broadway,  startling 
mysdf  with  the  sadden  wonder  if  he,  too,  were  a 
victim  of  those  rdentless  hounds  of  wakef  ubess  that 
turn  i^ght  into  a  never-ending  mquiskion. 

Then  all  specuUnkm  tuddmly  ended,  for  I  saw  that 
he  had  come  to  a  stop  and  was  gaaiiig  ptfpleswdly  up 


!f ' 


lif 


"6    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

^•cX*s."trr  .*•""'■"  "™^'- 

whom  h.  .^^"ZZ  ^"^T^*"  Z.  *"• 
*»m  that  «a^  S™,;  iTSL.T*"'  *"  *°°8« 
dred  and  c^  i„  I^*,  ^'  ^"  something  kto 

on  the  araT^      ^  ^  ■" '°'«^  "»  Kshly 

«nd*a^roa"i,r;  »f «  "«  ™«ht.  and 

of  «onde™«„t     lS^t^''!r'"**«"'y»^ 
towarf  the  faade  of  71^  ^^  °~  *'"  """d 

teT^  W^r  '1™  '^  w"*  of  the  h«ne- 

*-f«oTt:j:^-t:4^*»;^ 

»« the  innermost  depfl,,  of  Hfe  ^^I^,'**" 
And  both  the  invitation  and  the  .^Le  I  .e 

h-n.  in  th™.J*.rw."e  d!^r.;flLit::? 
opposite  him  at  one  of  ttTZ^V?      '"'*^* 

«™ns  of  white  fin«.U  i^.C^t.'TSS: 
^/  ^l"2d' t  'i^''  •  ~^"  ^.  — - 


THE  DUMMY.CHUCKER 


217 


WM  now  eddying.  It  held  notlmig  either  new  or 
appealing  to  me.  It  was  not  the  first  time  I  had 
witnessed  the  stars  of  stagekmd  sitting  in  perigean 
torpor  through  their  seven-coursed  suppers,  just  as  it 
was  not  the  first  time  I  had  meekly  endured  the  assault- 
ing vulgarities  of  onyx  pillars  and  pornographic  art 
for  the  sake  of  what  I  had  found  to  be  the  most  match- 
less cooking  in  America. 

It  seemed  an  equally  old  story  to  my  new  friend 
across  the  table,  for  as  I  turned  away  from  the  sur- 
rounding flurry  of  bare  shoulders,  as  white  and  soft 
as  a  flurry  of  gull-wings,  I  saw  that  he  had  ahvady 
ordered  a  meal  that  was  as  mysteriously  sumptuous 
as  it  was  startlingly  expensive.  He,  too,  was  appar- 
ently no  stranger  to  Lobster  Square. 

I  still  saw  no  necessity  for  breaking  the  silence* 
although  he  had  begun  to  drink  his  wine  with  a  febrile 
recklessness  rather  amazing  to  me.  Yet  I  felt  that 
with  each  breath  of  time  die  bubble  of  mystery  was 
growing  bigger  and  bigger.  The  whole  thing  was 
something  more  than  the  dare-devil  adventure  of  a 
man  at  the  end  of  his  tether.  It  was  more  than  the 
extravagamx  of  sheer  hopelessness.  It  was  something 
which  made  me  turn  for  the  second  time  and  study 
his  face. 

It  was  a  remaricable  enough  lace,  remarkable  for  its 
thinness,  ior  its  none  too  appealing  paUw,  and  for  a 
certain  tragfc  furtiveness  which  showed  its  owner  to 
be  not  altogether  at  peace  with  his  own  louL  About 
his  figure  I  had  alrea^  detected  a  fxrtam  note  of  di»- 
tfaiction,  of  nervous  briskness,  which  at  once  lifted  him 


If 


«8    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 
•bove  the  place  of  the  u«mlc««et*<I«ntu«r   T1«. 

«»  ugm  as  tne  veUum  across  a  snarm^rt*^ 

™>n«eiy  small  wrmldes.    His  hands  I  rA„M  . 

S"":/'"^**~^^  white,  as  w^shT^^ 
fra^ihty  as  they  were  disquieting  in  their  nTer^Ld^^ 
restless  movements.    InlctualyZTT^rT^^^ 

tonal    Hrt^1.th^^rP~^°"«*""9»«- 

oUo^:^Zt^  "^  -napP'.ha^ive  .oon,f„, 

"Because  one^half  of  them,"  he  avowed    ",,, 

harpies,  and  the  other  half  are  thieve,!*^     ^ 

a  voluminous  p^ldli^f  ^.^^  u'^ST  T 
qoate  payment  for  a  repast  so  ZZ^^  T**" 
aireadxp^  .„„^^^»^^1^ -.  •»<' 


THE  DUMMY-CHUCKER 


319 


"No,  I'm  not,"  he  retorted.  "I'm  from  God'» 
cotmtiy." 

That  doubtlessly  irreproachable  yet  va^ely  denomi- 
nated territory  left  me  so  much  in  doubt  that  I  had 
to  ask  for  the  second  time  the  place  of  his  origin. 

"I  come  from  Virginia,"  he  answered,  "and  if  I'd 
stayed  there  I  wouldn't  be  where  I  am  to-night" 

As  this  was  an  axiom  which  seemed  to  transcend 

criticism  I  merely  turned  back  to  him  and  asked:  "And 
where  are  you  to-night?" 

He  lifted  his  glass  and  emptied  it  Then  he  leaned 
forward  across  the  table,  staring  me  in  the  eyes  as 
he  spoke.  "Do  you  know  the  town  of  Hanover,  down 
in  Virginia?" 

I  had  to  confess  that  I  did  not  As  he  sat  kx>king 
at  me,  with  a  shadow  of  disappointment  on  his  lean 
face,  I  again  asked  him  to  particuUu-ize  his  present 
whereabouts. 

"I'm  on  the  last  inch  of  the  last  rope-end,"  was  his 
answer. 

"It  seems  to  have  its  ameliorating  condition,"  I  re- 
marked, glancing  about  the  taMe. 

He  emitted  a  shairp  cackle  of  a  bugfa. 

"Youll  have  to  leave  roe  before  I  onler  die  liqueur. 
This,"  wiA  a  hand-sweep  about  the  cluster  of  dishes, 
"is  some  music  m  have.to  face  alone.  But  what's 
that,  when  you're  on  the  but  hich  of  the  last  rope- 

"Your  position,"  I  ventured,  "sounds  almost  like  a 
de^ieraie  one." 


:  H 


m 


i'i  ■ 

H'.U  : 


220    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

'l>esperater  he  echoed.  "It's  more  tfian  ti»t  It's 
hqielefsf 

"You  have  dooljtlest  been  visiting  Wan  Street  or 
pCMsibly  buying  mining-sfeock?"  was  my  flippant  sug- 
gcsdcn.  Hismannerof  speedi,Iwasbcginniivtofeel, 
was  not  mafkedly  southern. 

"No,"  he  cried  with  quick  solemnity.  Tve  been 
seOmg  it" 

"But  such  activities,  I  assumed,  were  &r  removed 
from  the  avenues  of  remorse." 

He  stared  at  me,  absently,  for  a  moment  or  twi'. 
Then  he  moved  restlesdy  in  his  dnur. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  wire-tapper?"  he  demanded. 

"Quite  often,"  I  answered. 

"Did  you  ever  fall  for  one  of  thdr  yarns?  Did 
you  ever  walk  into  one  of  their  nice,  gold-f^ted  traps 
and  have  them  shake  you  <k>wn  for  everything  you 
owned — and  t     >  for  things  you  didn't  own?" 

Here  was  a  misfortune,  I  liad  to  confess,  vAddi  had 
not  yet  knocked  at  my  door. 

"I  came  up  to  this  town  with  thirty  thousand  dol- 
lars, and  not  quite  a  third  of  it  my  own.  Twenty  of 
it  was  for  a  nuxble  quarry  we  were  gcnng  to  open  up 
on  the  Potomac.  Thty  sent  me  north  to  put  through 
the  deal.  It  was  new  to  me,  all  right  I  wasn't  used 
to  a  town  \^ere  they  have  to  chsun  ^  door-mats 
down  and  you  daren't  speak  to  your  ndghbor  wi^out 
a  police-permit  And  when  a  prosperous-locking 
traveler  at  my  hotel  got  talkmg  about  horses  and  races 
and  the  string  tiiat  Kcene  sent  soutii  last  w&ter,  he 
struck  something  that  was  pretty  dcMe  to  me,  fm*  that^s 


THE  DUMMY-CHUCKER 


191 


what  we  go  in  lor  down  boon  horie-fawiing  and 
stock-iannuig.  Then  he  told  me  how  Uie  aattttant 
stqmritttendcnl  of  th«  Weiteni  Union,  die  nan  who 
managed  their  racing  department,  wu  an  <dd  friend 
of  his.  He  also  allowed  this  friend  of  Ids  was  ready 
to  phone  him  some  early  tr»rk-retnms»  for  what  he 
called  a  big  rakeoff.  He  even  took  me  down  to  the 
Western  Unkm  Building,  on  the  comer  of  Dey  and 
Broadway,  and  introduced  me  to  a  man  be  called 
the  assistant  si^ierintendent  We  met  him  in  one 
of  the  halls— he  was  ni  hts  shirt-sleeves,  and  looked 
like  a  pretty  busy  man.  He  was  to  hold  back  the  re- 
turns until  our  bets  coukl  be  hud.  He  explained  that 
he  himsdf  couMn't  figure  in  the  thing,  but  that  his 
sister-in-hiw  nii|^  possibly  handle  the  retoms  over 
her  own  private  wire." 

"That  sounds  very  familiar,"  I  sadly  commented. 

"He  seemed  to  k>se  interest  when  he  found  I  had 
only  a  few  thousand  doUars  of  my  own.  He  said 
the  killing  would  be  a  quarter  of  a  milUon,  and  tite 
risk  for  hokling  i;^  the  con^any's  despatches  would 
be  too  great  for  bun  to  bother  with  small  bets.  But 
he  said  he'd  try  out  the  pkm  that  aftemooa  So  my 
traveler  friend  took  roe  up  to  a  pool-room  with  racing- 
sheets  and  bladdxMurds  and  half  a  dozen  td^japh 
keys  aiul  twice  as  many  t^phcmes.  It  lodced  13ce 
the  real  thii^  to  me.  When  the  returns  started  to 
come  in  and  we  got  our  fia^,  our  private  tip  from  the 
Western  Umon  office,  I  tried  fifty  doUars  on  a  three- 
tOHme  ^ot" 

"And  of  course  you  won,"  was  my  synqatheUc  re- 


'I 


( 


222    THE  MAN  WHO  CX)ULDNT  SLEEP 

joinder,  as  I  Mt  Utteniiif  to  the  old,  sad  tale.    "Yoti 
always  do." 

"Then  I  met  the  woman  I  spoke  about,  the  woman 
who  called  herself  the  sister-in-law  of  the  radng-wire 
manager." 

"And  what  was  sht  like?"  I  inquired 

"She  looked  a  goc<d  deal  like  any  of  these  women 
around  here,"  he  said  'th  an  eye-sweep  over  the 
flurry  of  gull-wing  backs  and  the  garden  of  finery 
that  surrounded  us.  "She  looked  good  enough  to  get 
my  thirty  thousand  and  put  me  down  and  out.** 

At  which  he  huj^  his  mirthless  and  mummy-like 
laugh. 

"You  see,  I  had  sense  enough  to  get  cold  feet,  over- 
night But  when  I  talked  it  over  with  her  next  day, 
and  I  saw  her  calling  up  a  few  of  her  Wall  Street, 
friends,  I  kmd  of  forgot  my  scruples.  She  got  me 
thinking  crooked  again.  And  that's  all  That's  where 
tiie  story  ends." 

His  docility,  as  I  sat  thhiking  of  that  odkras  and 
flamboyant  type  of  she-harpy,  began  to  irritate  me. 

"But  why  should  it  end  here?"  I  demanded. 

"Because  I  put  twenty  thousand  dollars  of  other 
people's  money  into  a  phony  game,  and  lost  it." 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

"Do  you  suppose  I  could  go  home  with  that  hang- 
ing over  me?" 

"Supposing  you  can't  Is  that  ai^  reason  why  you 
should  lie  down  at  this  stage  of  the  game?" 

"But  I've  lost,"  he  averred.    "Everything's  goner 

"  'An  is  not  lost "'  I  quoted,  feeling  very  landi  Iflce 


i'^i 


m 


THE  DUMMY-CHUCKER 


M3 


Francis  the  Firtt  after  the  Battle  of  Pavia,  "'tiU 
honor's  lelfU  gone!'" 

"But  even  thafs  gone,"  waa  |iit  liitlcti  retort  He 
looked  up,  ahnost  angrily,  at  mj  movement  of  in^- 
tience.    "Well,  what  would  yoM  do  about  it  r  he  chair 

lenged. 

"I'd  get  that  money  back  or  I'd  get  that  gang  be- 
hind the  bars,"  was  the  answer  I  flung  out  at  Wm. 
"I'd  fight  them  to  a  finish." 

"But  there's  notliing  to  fig^t  There's  nobody  to 
get  hold  of.  That  Western  Union  man  was  only  a 
capper,  a  come-on.  Thdu:  poolroom's  oiw  of  those 
dirigible  kind  that  move  on  when  the  police  appear. 
Then  they'd  daim  I  was  as  bad  as  they  were,  trying 
to  trick  an  honest  tj<^okmak<r  out  of  his  money.  And 
besides,  there's  nothing  left  to  show  I  t\  ?r  handed 
them  over  ai^thing." 

"Then  I'd  keep  at  it  until  I  found  something/*  I 
declared.    "How  about  the  woman?* 

"She'd  be  too  clever  to  get  cauf^t  And  I  don't 
suppose  she'd  know  me  from  a  piece  of  cheese." 

"Do  you  suppose  you  could  in  any  wa:jr  get  me  in 
touch  with  her?"  I  asked. 

"But  she*s  got  police  protectkm.  I  tried  to  have  her 
arrested  myself .  The  officer  told  me  to  be  on  my  way, 
or  he'd  run  me  in.** 

"Then  you  know  where  she  lives?**  I  qtnckly  m- 
quired. 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  as  though  my  question 
had  caught  him  unawares.  Then  he  mention^  erne  of 
the  smaller  apartment-hotels  of  upper  Broadway. 


■  4  ■ 

M  il     ■'■,    't. 


aa4    THE  MAN  WHO  CXHJLDNT  SLEEP 

"And  what's  her  name?^ 

Again  he  hesitated  before  answering. 

T  il^^'  ''*^'*  ^  *  ****^  ^  «"PP<»«^  Tlw  only  one 
I  know  IS  Brunelle,  Vinnie  BruneUc  Thafs  the  name 
she  answered  to  up  there.  But  look  here-you're  not 
going  to  try  to  see  her,  are  you?" 

"That  I  can't  tell  until  to-morrow." 

«I  don't  think  ther  .,  be  any  to-morrow,  for  me." 
he  rejc^ed,  as  h,s  earKcr  listless  look  returned  to  his 
tace    He  even  peered  up  a  little  startled,  as  I  rose  to 

'Tha^s  nonsense,"  was  my  answer.    nVe're  goine 
to  meet  here  to-morrow  night  to  talk  things  ovw-.- 
;*But  why?"  he  protested.  ^ 

"Because  it  strikes  me  you've  got  a  duty  to  perform 

To'ZrTJ'^-    A"^  »f  I  «"«>«  of  any  service 
to  you  It  will  be  a  veiy  great  pleasure  to  me.    And  in 

H,.^"^  ."r  """^'^  "^"^  ^^"^'"^  «»n  that  of 
r^^'^''^  "^  0»<*o«t  on  Broadway,  acconlingly, 
I  did  not  let  the  grass  grow  under  my  feet  Two 
minutes  at  the  telephone  and  ten  more  in  a  taxicab 
brought  mc  in  touch  with  my  old  friend  Doyle  who 
was  worim^  a  mulatto  shooring  case  in  lower 
S^Av«.ue  as  qdetfy  as  a  gardener  wori^^ 

Brois:^  ?  z^z"^'  *  "^  "^^  ^-^^ 

He  studied  the  pavement.    Then  he  shoe*  his  head. 
The  name  clearly  meant  nothing  to  him. 


— gn 


THE  DUMMY-CHUCKER 


225 


"Give  me  something  more  to  woric  onT 

"She's  a  young  woman  who  lives  by  her  wits.  She 
keeps  up  a  very  good  front,  and  now  and  then  does  a 
variety  of  the  wire-tapping  game." 

"I  wonder  if  that  wouldn't  be  the  Cassal  woman 
Andrus  used  as  a  come-on  for  his  Mexican  mine 
game?    But  she  claimed  Andrus  had  fooled  ho*." 

"And  what  else?"  I  inquired. 

Doyle  stood  silent,  wrapt  in  thought  for  a  moment 
or  two. 

"Oh,  that's  about  alL  I've  heard  she's  an  uncom- 
monly clever  woman,  about  the  cleverest  woman  in  the 
world.    But  what  are  you  after?" 

"I  want  her  record— all    f  it" 

"That  sort  of  woman  never  has  a  record.  That's 
what  cleverness  is,  my  boy,  maintaming  your  reputap 
tion  at  the  expense  of  your  character." 

"You've  given  birth  to  an  epigram,"  I  complained, 
"but  you  haven't  helped  me  out  of  my  dilemma." 
Whereupon  he  asked  me  for  a  card. 

"I'm  going  to  give  you  a  line  to  Sherman— Camera- 
Eye  Sherman  we  used  to  call  him  down  at  Head- 
quarters. He's  with  the  Bankers'  Association  now,  but 
he  was  with  our  Identificaticm  Bureau  so  kmg  he  knows- 
'em  all  like  his  own  family." 

And  on  the  bottom  of  my  card  I  saw  Doyle  writer 
"Please  tell  him  what  you  can  of  Vinnie  Branelle." 

"Of  course  I  coukin't  see  him  to-night?" 

Doyle  locked  at  his  watodi. 

"Yes,  you  can.  You'll  get  him  t^  at  his  apart- 
ment on  Riverside.     And  I'll  give  you  odds  you'll 


ci'ir 


ii 


w 


^!:l 


m6  the  man  who  couldnt  sleep 

ITat.  fa  fcct,  WM  predi^  what  I  foond  the  ma. 
wrth  the  c«»e„^  d^.    He  «t  there  deaW™ 

««ad  ««,  bland  ».  VenetUa  «^  ^t 

Myhow  looked  «fl.e  .«d  fa  hi,  ft«e»,  looked  a. 
me,  and  then  looked  at  Hie  card  agafa. 

"T  fctr*  ^  "  '™*''^  *"  •"■•  '«««>!c  query. 
I  hare  never  met  the  lady.    Bw.friendofmfae 
nas,  Pm  sorry  to  say.    And  Iwantto  A.  JJli 
to  help  hfai  oat"         '^  *'«««»  do  what  I  can 

"How  much  did  be  lose?" 

"F^  how  that  dways  gets  'emr  „»„,•„«  that 
7«?«- of  tong-mimured  feces.    "WeU,  here's  what  I 

^.::t^«^rT^  ".*^'  ^"t^'sTitf 

Z^l^    ^••culptor  called  DeHsle  took 

ment    She  soon  came  to  the  end  of  her  ropTZT 
Then  she  c«ne  home-rye  an  ilea  d.e  triedX^ 

and  couldn't  mdce  it  go.  Th«,  she  was  a  pe^t^ 
L*^-  '^^  »** •*'y«'  »  variation  M^^. 
i„T  «^  "•**»*""  «II«d  the  Southam  case,  wo  A- 
u^  under  an  English  cortidence-man  called  iZT 
Then  d«  got  dagusted  with  Adam.  «rf  came  t2^ 


THE  DUMMY-CHUCKER 


9Vf 


America.  She  had  to  take  what  she  could  get,  wA  for 
a  few  weeks  was  a  capper  for  a  high-grade  wonum'a 
bucket-shop.  When  Headquarters  closed  up  the  shop 
she  went  south  and  was  in  soavt  way  involved  in  tiie 
Farra  uprising  in  the  cistern  end  of  Cuba." 

My  apathetic  chrcmider  paused  for  a  momeat  or  two, 
studying  his  lacerated  dgar-end. 

"Then  she  married  a  Haytian  half-cast  Jew  in  the 
Brazilian  coffee  business  who'd  bought  a  Spaoi^  title. 
Then  she  threw  the  title  and  die  coffee-man  over  and 
came  back  to  Washington,  where  she  worked  Hcim  ropes 
as  a  lobbyist  for  a  winter  or  twa  Then  she  took  to 
going  to  Europe  eveiy  VMxaSStk  or  so.  I  won'*t  say 
she  was  a  steamship  gambler.  I  don't  thi|^  die  was. 
But  she  made  friends — and  ^  couM  pU^  a  fupe  of 
bridge  that'd  bring  your  bade  hair  up  <m  eui.^  Then 
she  woriced  widi  a  mining  share  manipulator  named 
Andrus.  She  was  wise  enough  to  slip  fircna  under 
before  he  was  sent  iq»  the  river.  And  sinoe  tfien 
they  tell  me,  she's  been  doing  a  more  or  less  respee^Ue 
game  or  two  with  Coke  Whdan,  the  wire-ti^)per.  And 
that,  I  guess,  is  about  aU." 

"Has  she  ever  been  arrested  that  yon  know  of? 
Would  they  have  her  {Mcture,  for  instance,  down  at 
Tf^-'ndquartcrs?" 

\.t  man  who  had  grown  old  in  tlw  rtody  of  crime 
r     ied  a  little. 

You  can't  arrest  a  woman  until  you  get  evidence 
against  her." 

**Yti  you're  positive  she  was  involved  in  a  number 
of  crodced  enterprises?" 


m8  the  man  who  couldnt  sleep 

"I  never  called  her  «  cfook,"  protaud  my  host 
«a  «  «.pe™»,lit)r  flat  „.M„^  i„^  Jq^ 

me  she  was  a  crook.**  r-  ^^s^  » 

tJ^^'^P"^***^'^*^   And  I  ntther  imagine 

^•d  by  lus  sahric  smae,  >»  don't  mean  to  s^ 
that  a  woman  like  that's  immune?"  ^ 

J'^Ik  ^  r°^^'*  "^y '^*  ^«  ^°»«««^  ttactly.  On 
the  other  hand,  I  guess  she's  helped^^^  i„^ 
«we  or  two,  when  it  paid  her"  ^^ 

aiT'^'''^"'''""°«''"^*^<=^ 
"By  no  means.    She's  just  clever,  that's  alL    The 

tt^  threw  her  down,  threw  her  flat    Then  she  did  a 

mgton  that  gave  her  more  puU  than  aH  your  Tam- 
many 'politics'  east  of  Broadway." 
JI^  '  ^'^  ;«f  «^tand  that  what  you  caH  politics  and 
sand  dollars  and  go  scot  free?" 

m^^'^cjt^:; '""r' ^*  *yP^  <>f  ^'^-"^  never  r.ft,  a 
aWer  ?^°Tu'"'!'*°-  They  just  blink  and  haL3 
iTurs^f^r.?^  ^  °^  '"^  ^'  -*-.  ^^"t 

tended  **'  "^"^"'^  '*^°*^  ^"^'^  trasonable,"  I  con- 

fore  a^ng  his  next  question. 
"Have  you  seen  her  yet?" 


THE  DUMMY-CHUCKER 


229 


"No,  I  haven't,"  I  rtgl&td  as  I  roae  to  ga  "But 
I  intend  to." 

He  moved  his  heavy  shoulder  in  a  quick  half-circular 
forward  thrust  It  might  have  meant  anything.  But 
I  did  not  linger  to  find  out  I  was  too  tn^ressed  with 
the  need  of  prompt  and  pers(»ial  action  on  my  port  to 
care  much  for  the  advice  of  outsiders^ 

But  as  each  wakeful  hour  went  by  I  found  n^self 
possessed  of  an  ever  widening  curiosity  to  see  thb  odd 
and  interesting  wcnnan  who,  as  Doyle  exprened  it 
had  retained  rq[»itation  at  the  expense  of  dianicter. 

It  was  extremely  early  the  next  morning  that  I  pre- 
sented myself  at  Vinnie  Brunelle's  apartmeirt-hotel.  I 
had  not  only  slept  badly;  I  had  also  dreamed  of  myself 
as  a  flagdiant  monk  sent  across  scordiing  samls  to 
beg  a  bariMtfic  and  green-eyed  Thais  to  desist  from 
tapping  tdegraph-wtres  kadkig  into  the  can^  of  Alex- 
ander tiie  Great 

The  absurdity  of  tint  opianic  nightmare  seemed  to 
project  itself  into  my  actual  movements  of  the  morn- 
ing. The  exacting  white  light  of  day  withered  the 
last  tendril  of  romance  from  my  quisratic  crusade.  It 
was  oalty  by  assuring  mjrself ,  not  so  mudi  that  I  was 
espousing  tiie  cause  of  the  fallen,  but  that  I  was  about 
to  meet  a  type  of  woman  quite  new  to  my  txpmtact, 
that  I  was  ^le  to  face  lidss  Brunelle's  nnbetrayingly 
sober  door. 

This  door  was  duly  answered  by  a  naid*  by  a  sur- 
piisii^y  decorous  maid  in  white  cap  and  apron.  I 
was  conscious  of  her  valed  yet  inqmsitoda!  eye  r^- 
ing  on  my  abashed  person  for  the  snalleit  fractkm  of 


u-  -- 


230    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

a  second.  I  almost  suspected  that  in  tiut  eye  migh 
be  detected  a  trace  of  somethinsr  strangely  W  con 
tempt  But,  a  Httle  to  my  astonishment,  I  was  admitted 
quite  without  question. 

"Miss  BruncBe  is  just  back  from  her  morning  rid 
m  the  park,"  this  maid  explained. 

I  entered  what  was  plainly  a  dining-fxxwn,  a  smaU  bu 
wen-lighted  chamber.  Striped  awnings  still  kept  th( 
tempered  autumn  sun  from  the  opened  windows,  when 
a  double  row  of  scarlet  geranium-tops  stood  noddmg 
m  the  breeze.  At  one  end  of  the  table  in  the  centei 
of  the  room  sat  a  woman,  eating  her  breakfast 

She  was  younger  looking,  much  younger  looking, 
than  I  had  thought  she  would  be.  Had  she  not  sat 
there  already  inundated  by  the  corroding  acids  of  an 
earher  prejudice,  I  would  even  have  admitted  that  she 
was  an  extremely  beautiful  woman. 

She  was  in  a  rose-colored  dressing-gown  which 
showed  a  satin-like  smoothness  of  skin  at  the  throat 
and  arms.  Her  eyes,  I  could  see,  were  something 
^ween  a  hazel  and  a  green,  set  wide  apart  under  a 
Pillas  Athena  brow,  that  might  have  been  caUed  se- 
rene, but  for  some  spirit  of  rebellion  vaguely  refracted 
from  the  lower  part  of  the  face.  The  vividness  of 
her  color,  which  even  the  flaming  sweep  of  her  gown 
could  not  altogether  discount,  made  me  think  of  ma- 
tenal  buoyancies,  of  Kving  flesh  and  Uood  and  a  body 
freshly  bathed.  ^ 

Her  gaze  was  direct  disconcertingly  direct  It  even 
made  roe  question  whether  or  not  she  was  rau&ig 
my  thought  as  I  noted  that  her  hands  were  forge  and 


THE  DUMMY.OIUCKER 


331 


whhe,  that  her  mouth,  for  all  its  brooding  discontent, 
was  not  without  humor,  and,  strangely  enough,  that 
her  fingers,  ears,  and  tiiroat  were  without  a  touch 
of  that  jewelry  which  I  had  thought  ][«eculiar  to  h«r 
kind 

That  she  possessed  some  vague  yet  menacing  gift 
of  intimacy  I  could  only  too  plainly  fed,  not  so  much 
from  the  undisturbed  ease  of  her  pose  and  the  negli- 
gently open  throat  and  arms  as  f  rcnn  the  direct  gaitt 
of  those  seardimg  and  linqnd  eyes,  which  proclaimed 
that  few  of  the  pop(»ed  illusi(nis  of  life  could  flower 
in  their  ndgfaborhood.  This  discomforting  sense  of 
mental  clarity,  in  fact,  forced  me  into  the  conscious- 
ness not  so  much  of  bring  in  the  presence  of  a  soft 
and  luxurious  body  as  of  standing  face  to  face  witfi 
a  spirit  that  in  its  incongruous  way  was  as  austere 
as  it  was  akrt 

**Vou  wish  to  see  me?**  die  said,  over  her  coffee- 
cup.  My  second  glance  showed  me  that  she  was 
eating  a  bredcfast  of  iced  grape-fruit  and  chops  and 
scrambled  ^;gs  and  buttered  toast 

**Very  much,"  I  answered 

"About  what?**  she  inquired,  breaking  a  square  of 
toast 

"About  ^  mifcxrtnnate  position  of  a  young  gentle- 
man who  has  just  parted  company  with  thirty  thousand 
dollars  r 

She  bent  her  head,  wiA  its  looae  and  heavy  coils 
of  daric  hur,  and  i^anoed  at  tsf  ctfd  before  she 
spoke  again. 

"And  what  coukl  I  poti^  do  Yor  Um?" 


1 


h  I 


232    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

There  wu  something  neitlwr  socking  ncM*  encouni 
ing  in  her  unruffled  calmness.  But  I  did  not  intei 
to  be  disarmed  by  any  theatrical  parade  of  tranquillit 

"You  might,"  I  suggested,  "return  the  thirty  tho 
sand.** 

There  was  more  languor  than  active  challenge 
her  glance  as  she  turned  and  looked  at  me. 

"And  I  don't  think  I  ev  know  who  you  are."  si 
murmured. 

''But  I  happen  to  know  just  who  you  ar^"  was  n 
prcmipt  and  none  too  gentle  rejoinder. 

She  pushed  back  her  hair— it  seemed  very  thi( 
and  heavy — and  laughed  a  little. 

"Who  am  I?"  she  asked,  licking  the  toast-cruml 
from  her  white  finger-tips. 

"I'll  tell  you  who  you  are,"  I  retorted  with  son 
heat  "You're  a  figure-model  that  a  sculptor  mum 
Delisle  took  to  Paris.  You're  the  old  running-ma 
of  Adams  in  the  Southam  heir  case.  You're  the  wi 
of  a  Haytian  half-caste  Jew  with  a  Spanish  tit! 
You're  the  woman  who  worked  with  Andrus,  the  wil( 
cat  mine-swindler  who  is  now  doing  time  in  Sing  Sin: 
And  just  at  present  you're  the  accomplice  of  a  gar 
headed  by  a  certain  Ccke  Whelan,  a  wire-ta^iper  w< 
known  to  -the  police." 

Her  face  showed  no  anger  and  no  resentment  as 
unburdened  myself  of  this  unsavory  pedigree.  H< 
studious  eyes,  in  fact,  became  almost  contemplati^. 

"And  supposing  that's  all  true?"  she  finally  •aske( 
"What  of  it?" 

She  sat  and  looked  at  me,  as  cool  as  a  cucurobe 


1-1 


THE  DUMMY-CHUCKER 


233 


I  couM  no  longer  deny  that  as  a  type  she  interested 
me  Her  untamed  audacities  were  something  new  to 
my  experience.  She  seemed  still  in  the  feral  state 
Her  mere  presence,  as  she  sat  there  in  the  ludd  morn- 
ing light,  exerted  over  me  that  same  spell  which  keqts 
children  rooted  before  a  drcus-animal's  cage. 

"What  of  it?"  she  quietly  repeated. 

"I'm  afraid  diet's  nothing  of  it,"  I  admitted,  "ex- 
cept in  the  one  pcrint  where  it  impinges  on  my  personal 
interests.  I  intend  to  get  that  thirty  thousand  dollars 
bade" 

The  resduticm  of  my  totte  seemed  only  to  amuse 
her. 

"But  why  come  to  me?"  she  asked,  turning  bade 
to  her  breakfast  "Supposing  I  really  was  a  cog  in 
some  such  madiinery  as  ]rou  ^>eak  of,  how  mudi  would 
be  left  on  one  small  o^  whm  so  many  wheels  had  to 
be  oiled?" 

"I  have  no  great  interest  in  your  gang  and  its 
methods.  AH  I  know  is  a  tremendous  wrong's  been 
done,  and  I  want  to  see  it  righted." 

"From  what  motive?"  die  asked,  with  that  bar- 
baric immediacy  of  approach  peculiar  to  her. 

"From  tiie  most  disinterested  of  motive»— I  mean 
from  the  standpoint  of  that  rather  uncommon  thing 
known  as  common  honesty." 

She  lodced  at  me,  long  and  intently,  before  she  spoke 
again.  I  had  the  feeling  of  bemg  taken  vtp  and  turned 
over  and  inspected  through  a  lense  of  implacable  clarity. 

"Do  3rou  know  this  young  man  who  lost  his  money 
on  what  he  took  for  a  fixed  race?" 


h 


'H  *" 


'34   THE  MAN  WHO  COULONT  SLEEP 

•hip  w«r^  °*  *"*  •™»™  «*«  •cqtaimM 
"And  have  you  known  him  kme?" 

Iv«»oompdfcdtoconf.„toAecomr.nr 
And   you   nndentaod    the  /J^TTi/      ^ 
through?"  *"*    through    a 

•hougte  Ae  renaiurf  ,i,„t  ^  ">  ««« 

- »«. .  pi^  ^^L^^^^r'r 

resent   She  swenf  A-  « . .  ^^  "*****  keenly  t 

"ored  again^  „^    aIi  fl^Tt^l^"  ^" '^J 

once  fcand  would  trv  to  to.  J.Z^        ^^™'  '  *^ 
wguKi  try  to  toy  with  my  coat-buttoitt. 


THE  DUMMY-CHUCKER 


«3S 


'Tm  afraid,"  ahe  went  on  wHfa  her  grave  al»lractioii 
of  tone,  "that  you'll  find  me  very  matter-of-fact  A 
woman  can't  see  as  much  of  the  world  as  I  have  and 
then— ohi  and  then  beat  it  back  to  the  Elsie  Books." 

I  resented  the  drop  to  the  kmer  plane,  as  though  she 
had  concluded  the  upper  one  to  be  incomprehensible  to 
me. 

"PUdon  me^  madam;  it's  not  my  whuhnUls  Fm  tiy- 
ing  to  be  true  to;  it's  one  of  nay  promises." 

"The  promise  was  a  veiy  foolish  one,"  she  mildly 
protested.  "Yet  for  all  that,"  she  added,  as  an  after^ 
thought,  *'yoa*re  intelligent    And  I  like  mtelligence." 

Still  again  her  deep  and  searching  eyes  rested  on  my 

face.   Her  next  words  seemed  more  a  solik)quy  than  a 
speech. 

"Yet  you  are  doing  this  just  to  be  true  to  your  wmd- 
mills.  You're  doing  it  out  of  nothing  more  than  blind 
and  quixotic  generosity." 

The  fact  that  my  alhtsion  had  not  been  lost  on  her 
pleased  me  a  little  more,  I  think,  Aan  did  her  stare 
of  perplexed  commiseration. 

"Isn't  is  odd,"  she  said,  **how  we  go  wrong  about 
things,  how  we  jump  at  condunons  and  misjudge  peo- 
ple ?  You  think,  at  this  very  moment,  that  Fm  the  one 
who  sees  crooked,  that  Fm  the  one  who's  lori  my  per- 
spective on  things.  And  now  Fm  going  to  do  some- 
thing I  hadn't  the  remotest  intention  of  doing  when 
you  came  into  this  room." 

"And  what  is  that?" 

"Fm  going  to  show  you  how  wroi^  you've  been, 
how  wrong  you  are." 


.  'I 

I 


t  I 


:!(    "« 


2^    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

"In  whirt?"  I  inquired  m  ilie  agtin  9^  m  lilcac 
before  me. 

''In  everything/'  the  finaOy  answered,  as  the  roie  t 
her  feet  I  was  at  once  more  conscious  of  her  physia 
•ppeal,  of  her  inalienaUe  bodily  buoyancy,  as  I  sai 
her  standing  there  at  her  full  hetfl^    The  deep  flov 

of  coter  in  her  loosely  draped  gown  gave  her  an  a!mo« 
pontifical  statelintss.  distinctively  I  rose  as  she  did 
And  I  could  see  by  htr  eyes  that  the  courtesy  wai 
neither  ncg%ible  nor  dlsiasteful  to  her.  She  was  abotx 
to  say  something^,  then  she  stopped  and  looked  z^  m 
tor  a  hesitating  laome:!*  or  two. 

One  would  have  thouglit,  fitwi  the  soienmity  of  thai 
•tare,  that  she  faced  the  very  Rubicon  of  her  life.  Bui 
a  moment  later  she  laughed  aloud,  and  with  a  multi- 

tu&ious  rustling  of  skirts  crossed  the  room  and  opened 
aniwierdoor. 

Through  this  door,  for  a  moment  or  two,  she  com- 
pletely left  my  sight  Then  she  returned,  hokiing  a 
cabinet  photograph  in  her  hand. 

•Xk)  you  know  itr  she  quietly  asked  as  she  passed 
it  over  tome. 

It  took  but  a  gkmoe  to  show  me  that  it  wm  a  pictut« 
of  the  man  whose  cause  I  was  at  that  moment  espous- 
ing, the  man  I  had  folkwed  from  Uie  North  Rivra- 
pier-end  the  night  before.  A  second  glance  showed  mm 
that  the  lAotograph  had  been  taken  »  Lomlon;  it  bore 
the  stunped  inscrqrtion :  "Caret  ChOds,  Regent's  Park, 

The  woman's  sustained  attitude  of  viticipation,  of 


THE  DUMMY-CHUCiCER 


*I7 


expeetatiOB  vegMtStA,  puzzled  me.  I  saw  noddog  re- 
markable ^out  Ae  picture  or  her  poMtMion  of  it 

Thii,  I  y^evt,  is  tiie  raaa  yotf'ft  trfing  to  nre 
from  the  dtrtdiet  of  a  win4»pptr  named  Whd»i, 
Ojke  Whekn,  as  yoa  call  him?* 

I  adoiowtedged  thiR  it  vm. 

"Now  look  at  the  signature  written  across  It "  she 
prompted. 

I  did  as  ike  auigested  loaeribed  ibere  I  read: 
"Sincerely  and  more,    ^incam  Cory  ^*J^^mi* 

"Have  I  now  sade  the  sttiat^  omfyaUvdy  clear 
to  yo^j?"  shea^wd,  watch 'up  ice  a*? '  Io(4ced  from 
Imt  to  the  pliotc^rai^  aikl  tlap    m4r  ^    f^*  afr  in. 

"I  nnist  confes  ,  T  don't  q^    ^«  I  ?   nhted, 

thinking^  at  *he  m*  nent  '  iw  h«  a  m  tiin  »^rot^ 
side-Kghr  Irom  ^  window  ^  cen  on  a  qtui>;  acci- 
dental tcidi  of  Q^^ofi 

"It's  simply  Att  ^  tan  yon  are  tryii^  to  tave 
froir.  CokeWWin  »r?*#  mubm  kimse^,*' 

"Thafs  }ix^>oie^  T*  was  nay  exdamation. 

"It's  not  -^iposnUe  ?he  »dd  a  little  wearily,  •1)e- 
cause  the  whde  ^hit  -  lotMi^  more  than  a  plant,  a 
framentp.  And  -'-m  ^xay  i  mfl  know  it  It  can't 
goon.    Thewhok     it^  was  a  pim  ^  tmp  you." 

"^^^aniofrapmc?* 

"Yes,  a  a  efully  vVOfked-oot  ^an  to  galiMr  yen  in. 

mi  now,  y  u  see,  the  machinery  H  slipping  a  cog 
1«fe  it  wasn't  expected  toT 

T  h  3$cl  ^»%  rcreddoQS,  dazed,  tiymg  to  di  j^  ti» 
shade. 


m 


T 


»33    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

•Tou  meta  that  the  man  I  met  ind  talked  to  la 
night  18  actuaUy  an  accomplice  of  yours?" 
''Yet."  she  answered,  "if  you  care  to  put  ic  thj 

"But  I  «n't  Wieve  It    I  won't  bcKcve  it  muil  yo 
onng  hmi  here  and  prove  it" 

She  sank  into  her  chair,  with  a  half-Iistless  motra 
for  me  to  be  seated 

•Do  you  know  why  he's  caUed  Coke  Whehm?"  sb 
demanded. 
I  did  not 

That  too.  you've  got  to  know.  It's  because  he's 
a  herom  and  cocaine  fitnd.  He's  kilhng  himself  wit! 
the  use  of  drugs.  He;*  making  everything  impossible 
Its  eft  hmi  irresponsible^  as  dangerous  as  any  lunatic 
would  be  at  hrge."  ^ 

f if  *^  """^  ^^«^  **»  W  jeweled  watch. 
He  wUI  be  here  himself  by  ten  o'ckxrk.    Andifhe 

heard  me  aaymg  what  I  am  at  this  moment,  he  wouM 
fall  nie as cakniy  as  he^d  sit  at  acaf<  table  and  He  to 

"But  what's  the  good  of  those  Kes?^ 

•Don't  yon  suppose  he  knew  you  were  Witter  Ktr- 

foot  ttet  among  other  things  you  owned  a  house,  and 
»  car,  that  you  were  worth  making  a  try  for?  Don't 
you  suppose  he  found  aO  that  out  before  he  hud  his 
ropes  for  this  wire-tapping  story?  Can't  you  see  the 
part  /  was  to  play,  to  foOow  his  Ic«|  and  show  you 
how  we  couM  never  bring  his  money  hack,  but  diat 
we  could  face  the  gang  with  their  own  fife.  I  was 
to  weaken  and  Aow  you  how  we  couW  tap  the  tapper's 


THE  DUBfMY-CHUCKER 


339 


own  wire,  choose  the  race  that  protnised  the  best  odds, 
and  induce  you  to  plunge  against  the  house  on  what 
seemed  a  sure  thing?" 

I  sat  there  doing  my  best  to  Fletcherize  what  seemed 
a  remarkably  big  bite  of  information. 

"But  why  are  you  telling' me  all  this?"  I  still  par- 
ried, pushing  back  from  Hat  flattering  consdousness 
that  we  had  a  secret  in  c  >innxm,  that  I  had  proved 
worthy  an  intimaQr  denied  others. 

"Because  I've  just  decided  it's  the  easiest  way  cmt" 

"For  whom?" 

"For  me!" 

"What  made  you  decide  that?" 

"I've  done  a  lot  of  thinking  since  you  came  into  this 
room.  And  for  a  long  time  I've  been  doing  a  lot  of 
thinking.  I  don't  do  things  Coke  Whdan's  way.  I 
took  pity  cm  him,  once.  But  Fm  getting  tired  of  trying 
to  keep  him  up  when  he  insists  on  dropping  tower, 
lower  and  lower  every  day.  Don't  imagine,  because 
you've  got  certain  ideas  of  me  and  my  life,  that  I 
haven't  common  sense,  that  I  can't  see  ^at  this  other 
sort  of  thing  leads  to.  Fve  seen  too  many  of  them,  and 
how  they  all  ended.  I  may  have  been  mixed  up  with 
some  strange  company  in  my  day,  but  I  want  you  to 
know  that  I've  kept  my  hands  dean!" 

She  had  risen  by  this  time  and  was  moving  rest- 
lessly about  tiie  room. 

"Do  3^)0  suppose  Fd  ever  be  satisfied  to  be  one  of 
tiiose  painted  Broadway  dolls  and  let  my  brain  dry  up 
like  a  lemon  on  m  pantry  dielf?  I  conl^'t  if  I  wanted 
ta    I  couldn't,  aMwagh  I  can  see  how  easy  h  makes 


240    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


t.| 


everything.  I  tell  you,  a  woman  with  a  r^utadon  like 
mine  has  got  to  pay,  and  keep  on  paying.  She's  got 
to  pay  twice  over  for  the  decencies  of  life.  She's  got 
to  pay  twice  over  for  protecticm.  Unless  you're  re- 
spectable you  can't  have  respectable  people  about  you. 
You've  got  to  watch  every  one  in  your  circle,  watch 
them  always,  like  a  hawk.  You've  got  to  watch  every 
step  you  take,  and  every  man  you  meet — and  sometimes 
you  get  tired  of  it  all." 

She  sat  down,  in  the  midst  of  her  fd)rile  torrent  of 
words,  and  lodced  at  me  out  of  clouded  and  questioning 
eyes.  I  knew,  as  I  met  that  troubled  gaze,  so  touched 
with  weariness  and  rebellion,  that  she  wa&  speaking 
the  truth.  I  could  see  truth  written  on  her  face.  I 
tried  to  imagine  myself  m  her  place,  I  tried  to  see 
life  as  she  had  seen  it  during  those  past  years,  which 
no  charity  could  translate  into  an3rthing  i^^roaching 
the  beautiful  Anc  much  as  I  might  have  wished  it, 
I  could  utter  no  emptiest  jrfmtse  of  consolati<Mi.  Our 
worlds  seemed  too  hopelessly  wide  apart  for  any  com- 
mon view-point. 

"What  are  you  going  to  doP^I  asked,  humtUated  by 
the  inadequacy  of  the  question  even  as  I  uttered  it 

"I'm  going  to  get  away  from  it  Tm  going  to  get 
away  where  I  can  breathe  in  peace.  Oh.,  believe  me, 
I  can  be  irreproachaUe  without  even  an  effort  I  want 
to  be.  I  prefer  it.  I've  found  how  much  easier  it 
makes  life.  It's  not  my  past  I've  been  afraid  of.  It's 
that  one  drug-soaked  maniac,  that  poor  helpless  thing 
who  knows  that  if  I  step  away  from  him  he  daren't 
round  a  street-comer  without  being  arrested." 


THE  DtJMMY-CHUCKER 


241 


She  stopped  soMteSf  and  the  color  dibed  out  of  her 
face.  Then  I  saw  her  slowly  rise  to  her  feet  and  look 
undecidedly  about  the  four  comers  of  the  room.  Then 
she  turned  to  me.  Her  eyes  seemed  ridiculously  terri- 
fied. 

"He's  come!*'  she  said,  in  little  more  than  a  whisper. 

"He's  here  nowl" 

The  door  opened  before  I  could  speak.  But  even 
before  the  mummy-faced  man  I  had  left  at  the  caf6 
table  the  night  before  couhl  stride  into  the  room,  the 
woman  in  front  of  me  sank  back  into  her  chatf.  Over 
her  face  came  a  change,  a  veS,  a  quiddy  coerced  and 
smiling-lipped  blankness  that  remmded  me  of  a  pas- 
toral stage^lrop  shutting  out  some  grim  and  moving 
tragedy. 

The  change  hi  the  bearing  and  attitude  of  the  in- 
truder was  equally  prompt  as  his  startled  eyes  fell 
on  me  cahnly  seated  within  those  four  walls.  He  was 
not  as  quick  as  the  woman  in  catcMi^  his  cue. 

I  could  plamly  detect  the  interrogative  look  be 
flashed  at  her,  the  lock  which  demanded  as  plam  aa 
words:    **What  is  this  num  doing  here?" 

"This,"  said  the  woman  at  the  taUe,  in  her  most 
dulcet  and  equable  tones,  "is  the  ahruistk  gentieman 
who  objects  to  your  losing  thirty  thousand  dollars  in 
a  race  which  I  had  no  earthly  way  of  cofttrolfing.'' 

Here,  I  saw,  was  histrionism  witfiout  a  flaw.  Her 
fellow-actor,  I  could  also  see,  was  taking  man  thne 
to  adjust  hhns^H  to  his  role.  He  was  less  finished  hi 
his  assan^  \  r  *  accusatory  indignatioB.  Bid.  he  did 
his  best  to  u  <      tiie  occadon. 


pf 


T 


£   -1-  \ 


aA2    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

"I've  got  to  get  that  mon^  back;"  he  cried,  leveUng 
a  diaking  finger  at  her.  "And  I'm  goii^  to  do  it  with- 
out dragging  my  friends  into  it!" 

She  wall-ed  over  to  the  windows  and  dosed  them 
before  she  spoke. 

"What's  Uie  use  of  going  over  all  that?"  she  con- 
tinued, and  I  had  the  impression  of  sitting  before  a 
row  of  foot-lights  and  watching  an  acted  drama.  "You 
took  your  risk  and  lost.  I  didn't  get  it  It's  not  my 
fault  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  McGowan  and 
Noyes  will  never  open  up  unless  you're  in  a  position 
to  make  thent  It's  a  case  of  dog  tat  dog,  of  fighting 
fire  with  fire.  And  I've  just  been  telling  it  all  to  your 
friend  Mr.  Kerfoot,  who  seems  to  think  he's  going  to 
have  some  one  arrested  if  we  don't  suddenly  do  Uie 
right  diing." 

"I  want  my  money!"  cried  the  man  named  Whelan. 
I  could  see,  even  as  he  delivered  his  lines,  that  his  mind 
was  floundering  and  gro^g  wildty  about  for  solid 
ground. 

"And  Mr.  Kerfoot*'  continued  the  tranquil-vdiced 
woman  at  the  table,  "says  he  has  a  house  in  Gramercy 
Square  where  we  can  go  and  have  a  omference.  Fve 
phoned  for  a  telq;raph  operator  called  Dowi^  to  be 
tiiere,  so  we  can  decide  <m  a  plan  for  tapping  Mc- 
Gowan's  wire." 

"And  what  good  does  that  do  mtT*  demanded  tht 
mumn^-faced  youth. 

"Why,  that  gives  Mr.  Kerfoot  his  chance  to  bet  as 
much  as  he  Hkes,  to  get  as  mudi  tttdc  from  MeGo^noi 
as  he  wants  to,  without  any  risk  of  tosing." 


THE  DUMMY-CHUCKER 


343 


"But  who  handles  the  money?"  demanded  the  wary 
Whdan. 

"That's  quite  immaterial  You  can,  if  you're  his 
friend,  or  he  can  handle  it  himself.  The  important 
thing  is  to  get  your  plan  settled  and  your  wire  tapped. 
And  if  Mr.  Kerfoot  win  he  so  good  as  to  telephone  to 
his  butler  IH  dress  and  be  ready  in  ten  minutes." 

She  leaned  forward  and  swung  an  equipoise  phone- 
bracket  round  to  my  elbow. 

But  I  did  not  fift  the  receiver  from  its  hodc  For 
at  that  moment  Ae  door  abruptly  opened.  The  maid 
in  the  white  cap  and  aprc!n  stood  trembling  on  its 
threshold. 

"That's  a  lief*  she  was  crying,  in  her  shrill  and 
sudden  abandon,  and  the  twin  badges  of  servitude 
made  doubly  incongruous  her  attitude  of  fierce  revolt 
"It's  a  lie,  Tony!    She's  welched  on  you!" 
She  took  three  quick  steps  into  the  room. 
"She'SiOnly  playing  you  against  this  guy.    I've  heard 
c\ery  word  of  it    She  never  phoned  for  an  operator. 
That's  a  lie.     She's  throwii^  you  down,  few  good. 
She's  told  him  who  you  are  and  what  your  game  isr 
I  looked  at  the  other  woman.    She  was  now  on  ker 
feet 

"Dor/t  let  her  fx)l  you  this  time,  Tony,"  was  the 
passionate  cry  from  the  quivering  breast  under  the  in- 
congruous white  apron-straps.  "Look  at  how  die's 
treated  you!  Look  at  your  picture  there,  that  she 
cinched  her  taSc  wiA!  She  never  did  half  what  I  did 
for  you!  And  now  yOtt*re  letting  her  tfurow  you  fiat! 
You're  standing  there  and  letting—** 


244    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


1^ 


The  woman  stopped,  and  put  her  hands  over  h 
eara.  For  she  saw,  even  as  I  did,  the  hollow-eye 
mummy-faced  youth  reach  a  shaking  hand  back  to  li 
hipi 

"You  liarf"  he  said,  as  his  hand  swung  up  with  tl 
revolver  in  it  "You  lying  welcher!"  he  cried,  in 
thin  and  throaty  voice  that  was  little  more  than 
cadde. 

He  todc  one  step  toward  the  woman  in  the  roft 
colored  dressing-gown.  She  was,  I  could  see,  mu< 
the  taller  of  the  two.  And  she  was  standing,  no^ 
with  her  back  flat  against  the  wall  She  made  n 
attempt  to  escape.  She  was  still  staring  at  him  ot 
of  wide  and  bewildered  eyes  when  he  fired. 

I  saw  the  spit  of  the  plaster  and  the  little  showc 
of  mortar  that  rained  on  her  bare  shoukler  from  tii 
bullet4iole  in  the  wall. 

Then  I  did  a  very  ordinaiy  and  commonplace  thinj 
I  stooped  quickly  forward  to  the  end  of  the  ^^  an 
caught  up  the  nickeled  coffee-pot  by  its  ebony  handk 
The  lunatic  with  the  smoking  revolver  saw  my  sadde 
movement,  for  as  I  swung  the  tnetaA  instrument  tqi 
ward  he  turned  on  me  and  fired  for  theseeood  tioK, 

I  could  fed  the  sting  of  the  powder  smckt  am  nr 
up-thrust  wrist.  I  knew  then  that  it  was  useless  ti 
try  to  reach  him.  I  simply  brought  my  arm  forwan 
and  let  the  metal  pot  fly  from  my  hmd.  I  let  k  fl] 
forward,  targeting  on  his  white  and  distorted  faetu 

Where  or  how  it  struck  I  couhl  not  tcfi.  Ml 
l^ew  was  that  he  went  down  undera  scattetkig  fiyi* 
of  bbck  coffee.    He  did  not  fire  agaia    He  ^  ail 


THE  DUMMY-CHUCKER 


245 


even  move.  Bat  as  he  f  dl  the  woman  m  the  cap  and 
apron  dropped  on  her  knees  beside  him.  She  kndt 
there  with  an  inartictilate  cry  like  that  of  an  animal 
over  its  falten  mate,  a  ludicrous,  mouse-like  sound  that 
was  almost  a  squeak.  Then  she  suddenly  edged  about 
and  reached  out  for  the  fallen  revolver. 

I  saw  her  through  tiie  smoke,  but  she  had  the  gm 
in  her  hand  before  I  could  stop  her.  She  fought  over 
it  like  a  wildcat  The  peril  of  that  combat  made  me 
desperate.  Her  arm  was  quite  thin,  and  not  overly 
strong.  I  first  twisted  it  so  the  gun-barrel  pointed  out- 
ward. Tht  pain,  as  I  continued  to  twist,  must  have 
been  intense.  But  I  knew  it  was  no  time  for  half- 
measures.  Just  how  intense  that  pain  was  came  home 
to  me  a  moment  later,  when  the  woman  fdl  forward 
on  her  f ac^  in  a  dead  faint. 

The  o&Mat  womui  had  calmly  timmn  open  tiie  win- 
dows. She  wa^ied  me,  almost  apathetically,  as  I  got 
to  my  feet  and  stooped  in  alarm  over  tiw  unoomcioiw 
man  m  his  ridkulous  wdto-  of  Made  coffee.  Then 
she  stepped  ck»er  to  me. 

'*Have  you  killed  him?^  she  aslttd,  widi  more  a 
touch  of  diildlike  wonder  than  ai^  actual  fear. 

"No;  he's  only  stunned." 

"But  howr 

"It  cai^t  him  here  on  the  fordiead.  He'U  be 
around  in  a  minute  or  two." 

Once  more  I  could  hear  the  multitudiiKNU  rustle  as 
she  crc^ttd  the  rooan. 

"Put  ten  here  on  n^  bed,^  §im  called  Iroa  an  open 
door.    AiMi  as  I  carried  him  in  aad  dropped  hhn  in 


\ 


246    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

a  lodden  heap  on  the  white  coverlet,  I  saw  the  worn 
unsheathe  her  writhing  body  of  its  rose^olorcd  wraf 
ping.  From  that  flurry  of  warmth  her  twisting  bod 
emerged  afanost  sqmlchrally  white.  Then  she  cam 
to  a  pause,  bare-shouldered  and  thoughtful  before  m 

"Wait!"  she  said  as  she  crossed  the  room.  "I  nmi 
telephone  McCausland." 

"Who's  McCausland?"  I  asked  as  she  stepped  m 
into  the  dining-room. 

"He's  a  man  I  know  at  Headquarters,"  was  he 
impersonal-noted  re^y. 

For  the  second  time,  as  she  stqtped  hurriedly  bad 
into  the  room  with  me,  I  was  omsdous  of  the  satin 
like  smoothness  of  her  skin,  the  baby-Hke  whiteness  o 
her  rounded  bare  arms.  Then  wholly  unabashed  b 
my  presence.  At  flung  open  a  closet  door  and  tossed  ; 
cascade  of  perfumed  apparel  out  beside  the  bed  wher 
I  stood. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  I  demanded,  as  I  sav 
her  white-clad  figure  writhe  itself  into  a  street  dresi 
There  was  something  primordial  and  Adamitic  in  th 
very  cabnness  with  which  she  swept  throu^  the  flims] 
reservations  of  sex.  She  was  as  unconsdoos  of  m] 
predicanmit  as  a  cave  woman  might  have  been.  Anc 
the  next  moment  she  was  crt»hing  lingerie  and  narrow< 
toed  shoes  and  Oilet  artides  and  un<fedpheraUe  gar- 
ments of  folded  silk  into  an  Engiidi  club-bi^.  TIke 
she  turned  to  glance  at  her  watch  on  the  dresser. 

"Fm  going!"  she  said  at  hat,  as  she  caught  t^  i 
second  hand-bag  of  alligator  skin  and  crammed  mto  I 
jewel  boxes  of  dark  fAvah  and  cases  of  diflterent  oc^ 


THE  DUMMY-CHUCKER 


247 


ored  Idd,  and  still  more  dothing  and  lingerie    Tm 
going  to  catch  the  Nieuw  Amsterdam,*' 

"For  where?" 

"For  Europe  r 

Her  qnick  and  dcxtrom  handf  had  pinned  on  a  hat 
and  veil  at  I  stood  in  wonder  watditng  her. 

"CaU  a  taxi,  please,"  she  said,  as  she  struggled  into 
her  coat    "And  a  boy  for  my  bags." 

I  was  still  at  the  receiver  when  she  came  into  the 
room  aiul  looked  down  lor  a  nxnnent  at  the  woman 
moaning  and  whimpering  on  the  coffee-gained  floor. 
Then  she  began  resohttdy  and  cafanly  drawing  on  her 
plovesL 

"'Couldn't  we  do  sometUng  for  tiicm?"  I  said  as  I 
stepped  back  faito  die  bedroom  for  her  hand-bag. 

"What?"  she  demanded,  as  she  leaned  over  the  bed 
where  Whehm's  reviving  body  twitched  and  moved. 

"There  must  be  something." 

"There^s  nothing.  Oh,  believe  me,  yon  can't  he^ 
him.  I  can't  help  him.  He's  got  his  ami  way  to  ga 
And  it's  a  terribly  short  wayP' 

She  firnig  open  a  bureau  drawer  and  crammed  a 
further  article  or  two  down  in  her  still  open  chatelaine 
bag. 

Then  she  opened  the  outer  door  for  the  boy  who 
had  come  lor  the  bags.  Then  she  kxiked  at  her  watdi 
agam. 

"You  must  not  come  back,"  she  said  to  me;   •They 

may  be  here  any  time;" 
"W!»  may?"  I  adced. 
"The  police,"  she  answered  as  she  dosed  tiia  door. 


a48    THE  MAN  WHO  CX>ULDNT  SLEEP 


mJ 


She  did  not  speak  again  until  ire  were  at  tiie  ilda  < 
thetaadcab. 

"To  the  Holland  American  Wharf,"  ihe  said. 

Nor  did  she  speak  all  the  while  we  purred  an 
hummed  and  dodged  our  way  across  the  dty.  SI 
did  not  move  until  we  jolted  aboard  the  ferry-boat,  ai 
the  dangiiy  of  the  landing-float's  pawl-and-rachet  to 
us  we  were  no  longer  on  that  shrill  and  narrow  istai 
where  the  fever  of  life  bums  to  the  edge  of  its  thr 
laving  rivers.  It  was  then  and  onty  tiien  that  I  a 
ticed  the  convulnve  shakii^  of  her  shoulders^ 

"Wbat  is  it?"  I  asked,  helplessly,  oppressed  by  tl 
worlds  that  seemed  to  stand  between  us. 

"It's  mtiiing,"  she  said,  with  her  teeth  against  h 
lip.  But  the  next  minute  she  was  crying  as  fM-lom 
and  openly  as  a  chikL 

"What  is  itr  I  repeated,  as  inadequately  as  befoi 
knowing  the  uselessness  of  any  ^dnUtating  touch 
synqMitby. 

"It's  so  hard,"  she  said,  struggling  to  control  h 
v(»ce. 

"What  is?" 

"It's  so  hard  to  begin  over." 

"But  they  say  you're  the  cleverest  woman  in  t 
world!"  was  tiie  only  consolatkMi  I  couM  offer  her. 


I   ! 


CHAPTER  DC 

A  UALtO  lAIN-fTOmM 

I  LIFTED  my  face  to  the  toddcn  pdt  of  the  rain- 
shower,  feelhig  very  mudi  like  a  second  edition  of 
King  Lear  as  I  did  to.  Not  that  I  had  lost  a  kingdcmi* 
or  that  I'd  ever  heen  turned  out  of  an  ungrateful  home 
circle!  But  something  quite  as  disturtung,  in  its  own 
small  way,  had  overtaken  me. 

I  had  been  mubbed  fay  Mary  Lodcwood.  Wlule  I 
stood  watdiing  that  sudden  sfabwer  empty  ttpptr 
Broadway  as  quiddy  aa  a  fusiUade  of  buUets  might 
have  etiqttied  it,  I  encountered  somedifaig  rriwh  quite 
as  (»t»nptly  emf^ied  my  own  heart  It  was  the  cut 
direct.  For  as  I  crouched  hade  un^  my  dripping 
portico,  like  a  toad  under  a  rhubarb-leaf,  I  cai^jht 
stg^t  of  the  oaly  too  familiar  wine-cc^red  bndaulet 
as  it  swung  about  into  Longacre  Square.  I  must  have 
started  forward  a  litd^  without  bong  quite  ccm- 
sdotts  of  the  movement  And  throu*^  tlw  sheltering 
plate-glass  of  the  dripping  hood  I  caught  sight  of 
Mary  Lodcwood  hersdf . 

She  saw  me,  at  the  same  time  ^t  I  saw  her.  tn 
fact,  she  turned  and  stared  at  me.  I  ccmkte't  have 
escaped  her,  as  I  stood  there  mder  the  ^reet-Umi^ 
But  no  shgfatest  ngn  of  reeognitioii  came  from  that 
cddly  inquiring  face.  Sie  netdier  smiled  nor  bowed 
nor  kMked  back.  And  ti»  wine-aJ<wed  hndawlft  swept 

249 


250    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

on,  leaving  me  itaiidiiig  there  with  my  todden  hat  i 
xny  hand  and  a  great  ache  of  desolation  in  my  heart 

She  mutt  have  seen  ne,  I  repeated  as  I  turned  di 
consolately  bade  and  stood  "k^I  'uag  men  and  woim 
still  ducking  tmder  doorways  &nd  dodging  into  sid 
streets  and  elbowing  imo  theater-lobbies.  It  seemi 
dtuing  the  next  few  mommts  as  though  that  ten 
tory  onee  known  as  the  Rialto  were  a  gopher-vilUq 
and  some  hipine  hunger  had  invaded  it  Before  tl 
searching  nuzzles  of  those  rain-guests  all  pleasur 
sedcers  promptly  vanislMd.  Gaily  cloaked  and  sli; 
pered  women  stampeded  away  as  though  they  we 
made  of  sugar  and  they  and  their  gracious  curv 
might  melt  into  nothing  at  the  first  touch  of  watc 
Above  the  sidewaQc,  twenty  paces  from  die  empty  doo 
way  where  I  k>itered,  an  awning  appeared,  springii 
up  like  a  mushroom  item  a  wet  meackm.  In  towai 
one  end  of  this  awning  circled  a  chain  of  limousin 
and  taxkabs,  controlled  by  an  im{»sdve  Herculet 
dripping  oil-skins.  And  as  a  carrier-bdt  empties  gra 
into  a  mill-bm,  so  this  unbroken  duun  ejected  hurr 
ing  men  and  wcmien  across  the  wet  curb  into  the  ligt 
spans^  h(^>per  of  the  thoiter-foyer.  And  the  ichoug 
of  that  theater,  with  its  ccnnpanionalde  crush  of  fa 
inanity,  began  to  appeal  to  my  rain-swept  spirit 

Yet  I  stood  there,  uiulecided,  wate^f^  the  latt 
the  scatterix^  crowd,  washing  tiie  street  that  st 
seemed  an  dmgated  bull-ring  where  a  matador 
two  stin  dodged  the  taurine  charges  of  vehicles, 
watched  die  dectric  diii|>lay-signs  that  ran  like  Ik|t[ 
ivy  about  the  shop  fronts,  and  then  climbed  and  fli 


ii  ' 


A  RIALTO  RAIN-STORM 


J51 


tered  above  the  tooU»  mifty  and  aof tened  tqr  rate.  I 
watched  the  ironic  beavcnt  pour  their  tmabatinc  flood* 
down  on  that  coogertcd  and  overripe  core  ol  a  city 
that  no  water  oo«kl  waih  dean. 

Then  the  dewlatioa  of  the  mifly  itreeU  leaned  to 
grow  unbearaUe.  The  ipnqr  thai  Wew  m  acroM  my 
dampened  knee*  made  me  think  of  thelter.  Isawthe 
lights  of  the  theater  no  more  than  twenty  pacea  aw^. 
It  was  already  a  warren  of  crowded  Ufe.  The  thought 
of  even  what  dihited  con^anionAip  it  might  offer  me 
continued  to  carry  an  appeal  that  became  more  and 
more  damorout.  . 

A  moment  later  I  stood  before  its  box-office  wmdow. 
no  wider  than  a  mecteeval  kper-sqnint,  from  which 
cramped  and  hungry  soul*  buy  access  to  theur  modem 
temples  of  wonder. 

"Standing  room  only,**  announced  the  autocrat  of 
the  wicket  And  I  meekly  purchased  my  admisskm- 
ticket,  remeoAering  that  »i.e  haad  it^her  of  that  par- 
ticular theater  had  m  the  past  dor .  r^e  more  th-a  one 

slight  service.  .        u    a 

Yet  the  face  of  this  haugfaii  ^  olxi'tuiou*  need 

usher,  as  his  hand  met  mine  in    hoi  ireennasoonr 

Nvhich  is  perpetuated  by  certain  ailk-thieaded  icrapa  <rf 

oblong  paper,  was  troubled. 

"I  haven't  a  thing  left,'*  he  whispered. 

I  peered  disconao»r  ely  about  thiA  ses  ^f  heada  seek- 
ing Ufe  through  the  chmisy  lattke  of  poliU  mdodrama. 

••Unless,"  added  the  usher  at  my  elbow.  '^youTl  take 
a  seat  in  that  second  tower  boxr 
Even  throt«h  the  baixe  door»  bAind  mc  I  coaW 


■'1} 


!i 


m 


25a    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

hw  the  beat  ind  pttter  of  the  rain.  Itwattcmo 
9ny  port  in  a  storm. 

1  !Z^  "^  "^^  "^''^'"  I  told  him  and  a  momn 
later  he  was  leading  me  down  a  tide  airie  into  the  cur 
tamed  reccM  of  the  box  entrance. 

Y«  it  was  not  ordained  that  I  should  occupy  thai 
box  in  k»ely  and  unrivaled  splendor.  One  of  iti 
chairs,  set  dose  to  the  brass  raU  and  plush<om«d 
pM«prtA^  barred  it  off  from  the  more  protuberant 

I2j!«r?  ~«'*^  ""^^'P^  by  *  man  in  full 
evemng  drm.    He,  like  myself,  periuip^  had  never 

before  shared  a  box  with  other  than  his  own  acquainl- 

what  hmited  breadth  of  his  back,  he  turned  on  me 
one  sidelong  and  unmistakably  resentful  staro. 

Yet  I  looked  at  this  neighbor  cf  r  ine,  as  I  seated 
myself,  with  more  interest  than  I  teoi^ »  at  the  play- 
actors across  the  foot-lights,  for  I  nuiier  proferredKfe 
m  ti,e  raw  to  Ufe  in  the  sirups  of  stage  emotionalism. 

It  startled  me  a  Utile  to  find  that  the  man,  at  the 
moment,  was  equally  oblivious  of  anything  takiac 
place  on  the  st^re.    His  eyes,  in    ct.  seem^fi^Slo!; 

the  snowy  shoulders  of  th«  woman  who  sat  at  the  back 

of  Ae  stage  box.  directly  in  front  of  him.    As  I  fol- 

owed  the  direction  of  his  ga«  I  was  further  surprised 

to  discover  the  object  on  which  it  was  focused.    Ht 

wasstarmg.  not  at  the  woman  herself ,  but  at  a  pigeon. 

Wood  i^  set  in  the  da^)  of  some  pendam  oTwdB^ 
lace  encircling  her  throat  ^^ 

"Hiere  was,  indeed,  some  excuse  for  bis  staring  at  it 
In  the  first  place  it  was  an  extraordinarily  hirge  and 


if 


A  RIALTO  RAIN-STORM 


353 


vivid  stone;  But  against  Oe  bMkgrowid  where  it  ky, 
against  Jie  snow-white  colunin  of  die  neck  (whitened, 
perhaps,  fay  a  prudent  application  of  rice  powder)  it 
stood  out  in  limpid  ruddhiess,  the  most  vivid  of  fire 
against  the  purest  of  snow.  It  waa  a  challenge  to 
attention.  It  caught  and  held  the  eye.  It  stood  there, 
just  below  where  the  hair  billowed  into  its  crown  of 
Venetian  gold,  as  semaphoric  as  a  yard-lamp  to  a  night 
traveler.  And  I  wondered,  as  I  sat  looking  at  it.  what 
element  beyond  curiosity  couki  coerce  the  man  at  my 
side  into  studying  it  so  indolently  and  yet  so  intently. 

About  the  man  hunsdf  there  seemed  little  that  was 
exceptioud.  Beyond  a  certain  quidc  and  shrewd  alert- 
ness in  his  eye-movements  as  he  looktd  about  at  me 
from  time  to  time  with  nmffled  tesentment  which  I 
found  not  at  all  to  ray  liking,  he  seemed  medium  in 
everything,  is  coloring,  in  stature,  in  appard.  His 
face  was  of  die  neutral  saUownesi  of  the  sedentary 
New  Yorker.  His  intelligence  seemed  that  of  the 
preoccupkd  office-worker  who  couM  worm  his  way 
into  an  ill-fitting  dress  suit  and  pkKklly  approve  of  sec- 
ond-rate mekidrama.  He  seemed  so  without  interest, 
in  fact,  tliat  I  was  not  averse  to  directing  my  glance 
once  more  toward  the  ptgcon-fak>od  ruby  whicii  glowed 
like  a  live  coal  against  the  marble  whiteness  of  die 
neck  in  front  of  me. 

It  may  have  been  mere  acddcnt,  or  it  may  have  been 
that  out  of  our  united  gaae  arose  some  vagne  psychic 
force  whidi  disturbed  this  young  woman.  For  u  I  sat 
there  starbg  at  iSttt  shimmering  jewel,  its  wearer  sud- 
denly ttmied  her  head  and  glanced  bade  at  me.    The 


254    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

ntxt  moment  I  was  coosdoits  of  her  nod  and  nn1e^  tn 
mistakably  in  my  direction. 

Then  I  aaw  who  it  was.  I  had  been  uncon^  stai 
fag  at  the  shoulder-blades  of  Alice  Churchai— the 
were  the  Ftak  Avenue  Churchills— and  farther  bac 
in  the  box  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  brother  Beany 
who  had  come  north,  I  knew,  from  the  Nicangns 
«>ast  to  recuperate  from  an  attack  of  fever. 

Yet  I  gave  little  thought  to  either  of  tiiem,  I  raos 
confess.  At  the  same  time  that  I  had  seen  that  ao 
mentarily  flashing  smile  I  had  also  discovered  that  Hm 
jeweled  clasp  on  the  giri's  neck  was  holding  in  plao 
»  smf^  strmg  of  graduated  pearls,  of  veiy  tovel) 
pearls,  the  kind  about  which  the  frayed-cuff  garret- 
author  and  the  Sunday  "yellows"  foiever  km  to  ro- 
mance. I  was  also  not  uneonsckMis  of  the  quick  and 
covert  glance  of  the  man  who  sat  so  close  to  me. 

Then  I  let  my  glance  wander  bade  to  the  ndiy,  appar- 
ently contem  to  study  its  perfect  cutting  and  its  un- 
matchabic  coloring.  And  I  knew  that  the  nan  beskk 
Rie  was  abo  sharing  in  that  spectacle.  I  was.  ia  fiMst, 
stiB  staring  at  it,  so  unconsdous  of  the  movement  of 
tfie  play  on  the  stage  that  the  "dark  scene,"  when 
every  light  in  the  hotae  went  out  for  a  secead  or  two, 
came  to  me  witii  a  ^stinct  sense  &t  shock. 

A  murmur  of  approval  w«t  tinough  ^  house  as 
the  returning  Ught  rtnttetu^ktm  a  nwnilmili  nate- 
morphosed  stage-setting.  I^Ntt  «i  settbg  wu  X  «d 
not  know,  aor  did  I  k»k  1^  to  see.  For  as  ny  % 
mquisitive  gkmce  imce  more  focused  kum  en  ^  col- 
unmar  white  aide  that  tommwi  thovt  the  j-^rtitit 


A  RIALTO  RAIK-STCmM 


255 


a  second  and  greater  ihock  cfime  to  nci  Had  tfiat 
neck  stood  there  witiioat  «  twad  I  eeidd  htm  hmm 
scarcdy  more  startled. 

The  pigeoo-hiood  n%  was  fooe.  There  waa  a» 
longer  any  neddace  there.  Tht  eohmm  of  anow  wm 
without  ita  touch  of  tniAy  fight  It  waa  left  aa  £•> 
turbingly  bare  as  a  tafget  vidioisl  ita  huffs-cje  It 
reminded  me  of  »  marhte  grate  wHhont  its  eentral 
point  of  fire. 

My  first  definite  thought  was  that  I  waa  the  witocaa 
of  a  crime  as  audacious  as  it  waa  bewilderhig.  Yet,  on 
second  thouf^t,  it  was  afaufile  eiioagh.  The  problam 
of  proxinnty  had  afaready  hees  aoWed.  Wi^Hwatlar 
darkness  had  come  the  o|fortnnity,  the  oppotUmkf 
that  obviously  had  been  watched  for.  WMioiiMifi 
ment  of  the  hand  the  naddace  had  been  qaia%  and 
cunningly  removed. 

My  next  quick  dioogfat  waa  that  te  thief  sat  tiwc  ia 
my  immediate  neighborhood.  There  eonid  be  no  oAer. 
There  was  no  nxnn  for  doiwt.  By  some  uKji^itfioaa 
and  dextrous  novcnent  me  man  bandi  ma  mm 
reached  ftjtymsxA  and  wnh  Ast  MOcac|p  ot  taoQi  4bsM^ 
iCM  bom  of  mncs  eMpafiiBBa-lMig'  MHHapad  nw  ftwwft^ 
all  the  thne  shfoodad  bgr  Ika  nttor  dulnak  The  an* 
osxtty  of  hM  thing  waa  mIoqb«b^  yK  tna  eonplcva* 
ness  wiii  ulith  it  had  sMeacded  waa  even 


I  m 
wasttotcaaf  to 
tiny  <n  vb 


flMpaa^B  «o  e  eaflMnesa  ^ih[h^hI 
diMka  niy 


^ia^.^:n;T 


356    THE  BiAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEj; 

Yet  he  ieened  to  fed  that  he  wu  etiU  under  n 
eye  He  eeeraed  to  chafe  tt  that  continued  survey:  fa 
even  ae  I  studied  him  I  coaW  tee  •  fine  wreat  <rf  en 
^•wMMent  come  out  on  W«  fiwe.    He  did  not  tun 

and  look  at  me  directly,  but  it  was  phin  that  he  wi 
only  too  conedout  of  my  pteeence.    And  even  bef or 

I  quite  reahzed  what  he  wat  about,  he  reached  quietli 

and  iKpped  out  of  the  box. 

That  movement  on  his  part  swept  awi^  my  Uwi 

•h«d  of  heritatioo.    The  sheer  ii^dpi^Tfhi, 

fl«ht  was  proof  enough  of  his  offense.    His  obvioui 

^VH""  *^  niade  me  mow  than  ever  detcrmmed 
to  keep  on  his  trail  ^^ 

.lis**  ^^  W«  trafl  I  did,  from  Ae  moment  he 

^nl^"^  "L"^*  ^"^  *«*«•  '^  ««to 
the  m  drttthng  rahi  of  Broadway.    Stronger  and 

ever  ^ger  waves  of  mdigmition  kq»t  sweering 

.  ^  "^  "  ^  "^^"^  ^  *»*  northward,  iith 
a  furtive  glance  over  his  shoukler  as  he  fied. 

He  was  a  good  two  hundred  feet  ahead  of  me  when 
I  saw  him  suddenly  tarn  and  at  the  risk  of  a  visit  to 

the  h«^tal  or  the  moigue,  cross  the  street  fai  the  mid- 
dle of  the  Mock,  dodge  desperately  between  the  sttSce 

Building.    I  promptly  threw  decorum  away  and  ran. 

Street  entrance  to  the  drug  store  through  whose  w 

volvmg  door.  I  had  seen  my  man  dh«S«r.  im 
reasonably  certain  be  wouhhi't  stopTdrSc  an  i^ 
«wm  soda  and  he  dkto't,  for  as  I  hurried  past  Oie 


A  RIALTO  RAm-STORM 


W 


f ootttiJii  I  au0A  w^  of  him  tnrniiif  imo  the  stair- 
way that  louls  to  the  nibwiqr  itatkxL  I  daahcd  ahead 
but  he  was  tiiroogh  the  gate  before  I  could  catdi  up 
with  him.  I  had  no  time  for  a  ticket  as  the  guards 
were  already  damming  shut  the  doors  of  a  soothp 

bound  "local" 
"Buy  me  a  ticket,"  I  called  to  the  astonished  "diop- 

per"  as  I  tossed  m  doUar  bill  over  the  arm  which  he 
thrust  out  to  stop  me.  I  did  not  wait  to  argue  it  out, 
for  the  car  door  in  front  of  me  was  already  beginning 
to  dose.  I  had  just  time  to  catapult  my  body  in  be> 
tween  that  sliding  door  and  its  sted  frame.  I  k.icw, 
as  I  caught  my  bnaA  again,  that  I  was  on  the  pbit- 
form  of  the  car  befakid  the  jewd  thief. 

And  I  stood  tfieM,  carefi%  scnsthmEmg  the  line  of 
car  doors  as  we  pulled  into  the  Grand  Central  Staticm. 
I  did  the  same  as  we  passed  Thirty-third  Street,  and 
the  same  again  at  Twenty-eighth  Street  The  man 
had  given  no  sign  that  he  actually  knew  I  was  on  his 
track.  He  mi^  or  might  not  hi;vc  seen  me.  As  to 
that  I  had  no  means  of  bekig  certab.  But  I  was  cer- 
tain of  the  fact  that  he  was  making  off  m  a  panic  of 
indeterminate  fear,  that  he  was  doing  his  utmost  to 
evade  puiiinfc. 

This  came  docitiy  home  to  ne  as  ^  tate  slopped 
at  Twenty-thifd  Street  and  I  saw  Mm  slsp  fniddy 
ottf  of  the  for  cod  of  the  car,  hiok  aboot  Mm,  aai  dart 
across  tte  ftrtJow  pbtform  and  vp  me  slwiway  two 

■p      ^W'^SWr    WS^p^^V^a     ••••••■    ^I^wtBWW    ^W^W^^*^^    ^wWI^B  •^BH^B^^^Wt'  ^HW^f       ••^^^     ••^PW^^^ 

I  readied  the  ttiial  he  was  aiikitiig  op  on  ^  step 


as8    THE  MAN  VmO  CX5ULDNT  SLEEP 

of«crc»9.town8tir£Me«ar.  To  catch  that  car  wm  out 
of  the  queatioii,  but  I  waited  a  moment  and  twti^ 
aboard  the  one  that  followed  it,  thirty  ywds  in  tiK 
rear.  Peerinir  ahead,  I  could  phunly  see  bun  as  ha 
dropped  from  his  car  ca  the  northeast  comer  of  SbdB 
Avenue.  I  could  see  him  as  he  hurried  up  the  stepp 
of  the  Elevated,  crossed  the  platform,  and  without  so 
much  as  buying  a  ticket,  hurried  down  the  southmi 
flight  of  steps. 

I  had  closed  in  on  him  by  this  time,  so  that  we  wcr 
within  a  biscuit  toss  of  each  other.  Yet  never  onee 
did  he  look  about  He  was  now  doubHng  on  Im 
tra^s,  walking  rapidly  eastward  akmg  Twenty.^rd 
Street.  I  was  ctese  behind  him  as  he  crossed  Broad- 
way, turning  south,  and  then  suddenly  tacking  about, 
entered  the  hallway  of  the  building  that  was  once  the 
Hotel  BarthoWi  and  promptly  directed  his  steps  toward 
the  side  entrance  on  Tweaty-third  Street 

Evwi  as  he  emerged  wto  the  open  again  he  must 
haw     "en  the  antediluvian  night-hawk  cab  waitmg 
there  at  the  curb.    What  his  directions  to  the  driver 
were  I  had  no  means  of  knowing.  But  as  that  dripping 
and  water-proofed  individual  brought  his  whip  lash 
down  on  his  steaming  horse  a  door  slammed  shut  m 
my  face.    Once  more  I  so  far  forgot  my  dignity  as 
^  dodge  and  mn  like  a  rabbit,  this  time  to  the  other 
rf^  of  the  cab  aa  it  swung  briskly  northward.    One 
tii^  and  puil  threw  the  cab  door  open  and  I  tumbled 
in— tumbled  in  to  see  my  white-faced  and  frightened 
jewd  dnef  determinedly  and  frendedly  holding  dowa 
tl»  hao^e  of  the  (^|q)<»ite  dow. 


A  RIALTO  RAIN-STORM 


aS9 


His  &ce  w«t  aAn  as  I  came  sprawliBg  aad  hudH 
ing  against  hoB.  He  woold  have  leaped  bo^  from 
the  carriage,  wfeich  was  mm  wma^tag  up  an  all  but 
deserted  Filth  Avemie,  had  I  aot  caught  and  held 
him  there  unth  a  gnmaess  bom  of  rqieated  exaipera- 
tion. 

He  ^M«red  no  intoition  of  mealdy  stdmutttng  to 
that  detaimag^  jfMpi  Seeing  tfai^  be  was  finally  cor- 
nered, he  tumsd  on  me  and  fot^  like  a  rat.  His 
strength,  for  one  of  1^  weight  was  surprising.  MuA 
more  surj^isingr  lK>we»er,  was  his  f«rocity.  And  it 
was  a  strange  stng^  ^lere  is  the  hatf  light  of  that 
musty  and  m»vf-odeied  night-hawk  cab.  There 
seemed  soraetha^  ^Alerraaean  about  it,  as  thou|^  it 
were  a  battk  at  the  b^tom  of  a  well.  And  but  for 
one  thing,  I  inu^ine,  it  would  not,  for  me,  have  ben 
a  pleasant  encetmter.  Ilf  s  a  marvelous  thing,  however, 
to  know  that  you  have  B%ht  on  your  ade.  The  pano- 
ply of  Justice  is  as  fortifying  as  any  chain  armor  ever 
made. 

And  I  knew,  as  we  fought  like  two  wharf-niB  vmder 
a  pier-end,  that  I  was  right  I  knew  that  wmf  cause 
was  the  cause  of  law  and  order.  That  knowkdfe  gave 
me  both  strength  and  a  boldness  whkh  curied  me 
through  even  when  I  saw  my  writhing  and  desperate 
thief  groping  and  graqnng  for  his  hip  pocket,  even 
when  I  saw  him  draw  from  it  a  m^razlne>revolver  that 
looked  quite  ugly  enough  to  stanqwde  a  regimeui. 
And  as  diat  sodden-leathered  night-hawk  wttA  plac^ 
rollingr  up  ^^^  Avenue  we  twisted  and  panted  and 
grunted  on  its  floor  as  though  it  were  a  mail-coadi  in 


ife    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

tkt  Smm»  of  lixtjr  yitrt  afo,  figfati^f  lor  the  potMi. 
■ten  ot^bmt^Bmmm, 

How  I  got  it  «wiqr  Iron  him  I  atver  quite  knew. 
But  whis  I  cHK  to  mjr  eeBeee  I  had  him  on  the  ad> 
floor  and  mjr  knee  on  hie  cheet,  with  his  body  beat 
up  like  a  letter  U.  I  heW  him  there  while  I  wwt 
threiifh  hit  pockela,  qoietljr,  deUbemttdy,  one  by  one, 
with  all  the  care  of  a  cuataas  inspector  going  thioi^ 


Itad  no  time  to  k)ok  over  his  waOet  (which  I  f 

"Mmbered  as  behig  as  big  as  a  brief -bag)  or  his  psqien, 
nor  had  I  time  to  maitt  snre  how  much  of  the  jewelry 
he  wore  might  be  his  own.  The  one  tUng  I  wanted 
was  the  pearl  neckhux  witii  the  pigeon-Uood  n%. 
And  this  neckhKW  I  fonnd,  carefnOy  wrapped  b  a  siOc 
handkerchief  tucked  down  hi  his  r^t-hand  waistcoat 
pocket— which,  by  the  way.  was  provided  with  a  hot- 
toned  flap  to  make  it  deoUy  secmc. 

I  looked  over  the  necklace  to  nuke  sure  there  could 
benomistrfce.    Then  I  agam  wrapped  it  up  m  the  silk 

han&erchief  and  thrust  it  wen  down  m  niy  own  waist- 
coat pocket. 

"Get  upr  I  told  the  man  on  the  cab  floor. 

I  noticed,  as  I  removed  my  knee  from  his  chest, 
what  a  sorry  condition  his  shirt-front  was  in  and  how 
his  tie  had  been  twisted  »ound  under  his  right  ear. 
He  lay  bade  against  the  musty  cushions,  breatlimg 
hard  and  staring  at  me  out  of  eyes  that  were  by  no 
means  i»idly.  ^ 

"You  couMn't  work  itr  I  said,  as  I  pocketed  the 
revohrer  and.  having  readjusted  my  own  tie,  buttoned 


A  RIALTO  RAIN-STORM 


361 


inyowcott«crow»t«llycrtiiiq>lediliirt-ffOO».  Then 

for  the  fint  time  the  Aief  ipoke.  .  .  _,, 

"lyyoo  know  what  thiiTl  CO*  year  h«  orkd,  wWte 

to  the  1^  ,    _^_^    ,„ 

"Thit'i  not  worrying  mt,"  wat  my  «""*  *«**"•     * 

gotwhrtlctmeafter."  .     ,    ,    . 

He  sat  forward  in  Wi  teat  wiA  »  face  that  looked 

foolishly  threatening. 
"Don't  imagine  you  can  get  away  with  Aat,  hede- 

dared.   I  cotdd  afford  to  mile  at  Wi  impotent  fnry. 

"Jurtwalchmer  ItoWWm.  Then  I  added  more 
aoberiy,  with  my  hand  on  the  door-knob^  "And  if  yon 
interfere  with  me  after  I  leave  Ait  caMf  yon  » 
much  at  try  to  come  within  ten  yardf  of  me  to4iigfat, 
111  give  yoa  what's  coming  to  you." 

I  opened  the  door  as  I  ipokei  and  dropped  easily 
from  the  ftiU  moving  cab  to  the  pavement  I  atood 
there  for  a  moment,  watcWng  its  pladd  driver  as  he 
went  on  lip  the  avenue  The  glaafwindowed  door 
still  swung  open,  swaying  hack  and  forth  Hke  a  hand. 

slowly  wavhif  me  good-hy. 
Then  I  kxjked  at  my  watch,  crossed  to  the  University 

Cub,  jumped  fato  a  waitfaig  taad.  and  dodged  back  to 
the  theater,  somewhat  sore  hi  body  but  rather  well 
satisfied  in  mind. 

A  peculiar  feefing  of  wperiority  possessed  me  as  I 
presented  my  door-check  and  was  once  more  ushered 
bode  to  my  empty  box.  During  the  hst  hour  and  a 
half  that  pit  full  of  hmguld-eyed  people  had  been  wit- 
nessing a  tawdry  hnitation  of  adventure.  They  had 
been  swallowing  a  capsule  of  imiution  romance,  while 


i  f 

n 


Ute    THE  IfAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

I»  betwtcn  the  time  of  ktmag  and  mtHfrinf  tiMt 
(•rithly  lighted  foytr,  had  revcltd  in  advetititrc  at 
fint  hand,  had  taken  cbaacet  and  faced  daagen  and 
righted  a  great  wrong. 

I  fdt  inarticislately  pfoad  of  nyadf  aa  I  watched 
tile  final  curtain  come  down.  Thb  pride  heeame  a 
feeling  of  elatioo  as  I  directed  my  gkaoe  toward  Afice 
Churchill,  who  had  riaen  in  the  box  in  front  of  n^, 
•nd  was  again  ihoweriqg  on  me  the  warmth  of  her 
friendlyimifo  I  knew  I  was  atiQ  deethwd  to  be  the 
fod  from  the  machine.  It  was  aa  pfadn  that  ihe  was  itill 
naconacious  of  her  lose. 

I  stopped  her  and  her  hdk>w-cbedced  brother  on 
thrir  way  out»  sorprisinff  them  a  Uttkv  I  »>pfiom,  hy 
the  unk)oked-for  cordiaUty  of  my  graeting. 

''Can't  yon  two  chiklren  take  a  bite  with  me  at 
Sherry's?"  I  amiably  suggested.  I  could  see  brother 
and  sister  exchange  i^anees. 

"Benny  oughtn't  to  be  out  kte,**  she  demurred. 

"But  I've  something  rather  hnportant  to  talk  over,** 
Ifrileaded. 

"And  Benny  would  Uke  to  get  a  glimpse  of  Sherry's 
again,"  interposed  the  thin-cheeked  youth  just  back 
from  the  wilds.  And  without  more  ado  I  bundled  diem 
fato  a  taxi  and  carried  them  oflf  with  me,  wondering 
just  what  would  be  the  best  way  of  bringing  up  the 
eubject  in  hand. 

I  found  it  much  harder.  In  fact,  than  I  had  expected. 
I  was,  as  time  went  on,  more  and  more  averae  to  be- 
traying my  position,  to  descending  mildly  from  my  pb- 
nade  of  superiority,  to  burning  my  little  pin-wheel  of 


A  RIALTO  RAIN-STORM 


iiS 


power.  I WM  »•  *  piwy  wlA  Iti  Int  IwW  fconfc 
I  knew  whrt  I  amkd  lo  cmfully  wupptd  tip  «  "V 
waittcontpodNt  IiwMiribwtdiiowhiiadcoBW^W 
and  diirtef  tli»t  qnkt  mtpf^  hnm  I  wm  inordiiitMsr 
proud  of  nqftrif. 

I  Mt  kxddfiff  tt  die  girl  with  her  towering  crown  ci 
reddish-gold  hiOr.    She,  in  turn,  WM  i^nff  •*  ^ 
own  fooaehly  dirtorted  rellectiott  to  the  pollAed  bowl 
of  the  chiltordhh  Ifom  wWdi  I  ted  jmt  aenrad  her 
with  eopom  a  h  «*•#.     She  tat  there  guhig  it  her 
reflected  ficc.  gutog  it  ft  with  »  iort  of  itn^ooi  yet 
impenom!  teteataiM.   Then  I  «w  her  wddenly  lew 
forwud  to  her  chdr.  aliQ  lodkiaff  at  te  grateeqne 
image  of  hereetf  to  the  po«Aed  rihrer.    I  conld  not 
help  noticing  her  tfMAf  ttefiqg  taKfnmkm,  Ae  to- 
articulate  giip  of  her  fUWA  Hpa.  tte  hMid  thit  went 
suddenly  np  to  her  ^afoeft.    I  anw  tiw  fingers  fed 
around  the  bias  of  the  vmfmnif  eleoder  neii^  and 
the  momentary  look  of  etopor  that  oooe  more  twept 
over  her  laccb 

She  ate  a  ttoathM  of  capon,  etufSooily.  without 
speaking.  Then  the  kwlnd  up  at  ut  agato.  It  was 
then  that  her  hradier  Beany  lor  Ae  firat  tine  noticed 
her  change  of  color. 

''Whatfa  vroogr  he  demanded,  Ua  ^to  young  lace 
touched  aodderiy  witfi  aaidety. 

The  girl,  when  she  finally  aaawcred  hhn,  spcke  t«ry 
quietly.  But  I  oooid  see  what  a  etmggle  it  waa  coet- 
ing  her. 

"Now.  Benny.  I  don't  waat  any  fnaB,"  die  add.  al- 
moat  under  her  breath.    **I  don't  want  eHfaer  of  you 


MKROCOrr  MSOUJTION  raST  CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


1.1 


i:£i2^ 

■  23 

,5.     ■— 

u   Ui 

u 

1^ 

KUk 

USi 

^    /APPLIED  IfVHGE    Ine 

F        1653  East  Main  Strxt 

Rochnter.  N«w  York       14609      USA 
(716)  «2  -  0300  -  Phon« 
(716)  2a8-S989-Fa> 


264    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP    ' 

to  get  exdted,  for  it  can't  do  a  bit  of  good.    But  my 
necklace  is  gone." 

"Gone?"  gasped  Benny.    "It  can't  be!" 
"It's  gone,"  she  repeated,  with  her  vacant  eyes  on 
me  as  her  brother  prodded  and  felt  about  her  skirt, 
and  then  even  shook  out  her  crumpled  opera  cloak. 

"Does  this  happen  to  be  it?"  I  asked,  with  all  the 
nonchalance  at  my  command.  And  as  I  spcke  I  un- 
wrapped the  string  of  pearls  with  the  pigeon-bkx)d 
ruby  and  let  them  roll  on  the  white  damask  that  lay 
between  us. 

She  looked  at  them  without  moving,  her  eyes  wide 
with  wonder.  I  could  sec  the  cotor  come  back  into 
her  face.  It  was  quite  reward  enough  to  witness  the 
relieving  warmth  return  to  those  widened  eyes,  to  bask 
in  that  lovely  and  liquid  glance  of  gratitude. 

"How,"  she  asked  a  little  weakly,  as  she  reached 
over  and  todc  tiiem  tq>  in  her  fingers,  "how  did  you 
get  themr 

"You  lost  them  in  the  theater-box  during  the  first 
act,"  I  told  her.  Her  brother  Benny  wiped  his  fore- 
head. 

"And  it's  up  to  a  woman  to  drop  forty  thousand 
dollars  and  never  know  it,"  he  cried. 

I  watched  her  as  she  turned  them  over  in  her  hands. 
Then  she  suddenly  looked  up  at  me,  then  down  at  the 
pearis,  then  up  at  me  again. 

'TAw  is  not  my  necklace^"  were  the  astonishing 
words  that  I  heard  fall  from  her  lips.  I  knew,  of 
course,  that  she  was  mistaken. 

"Oh,  yes,  it  is,"  I  quietly  assured  her. 


A  RIALTO  RAIN-STORM 


365 


She  shook  her  head  in  negation,  still  staring  at  me. 

"What  makes  you  think  so?"  she  asked. 

"I  don't  think  it,  I  know  it,"  was  my  response. 
"Those  aren't  the  sort  of  stones  that  grow  on  every 
bush  in  this  town." 

She  was  once  more  studying  the  necklace.  And 
once  more  she  shook  her  head.  ' 

"But  I  am  left-handed,"  she  was  cxplaimng.  as  she 
stiU  looked  down  at  them,  "and  I  had  my  dasp,  hereon 

the  ruby  at  the  back,  made  to  woric  that  way.    This 

dasp  is  right-handed.   Don't  yon  see,  ifs  on  the  wrong 

"But  you've  only  got  Ae  thing  upside  down,"  cri«l 
her  brother.  And  I  must  confess  that  a  disagreeable 
feeling  began  to  manifest  itsdf  in  the  pit  of  my  stom- 
ach as  he  moved  doser  beside  her  and  tried  to  rev«^ 
the  neddace  so  that  the  dasp  would  stand  a  left-handed 

one.  .    .  , 

He  twisted  and  turned  it  fruitlessly  for  several  mo- 

ments.  ... 

"Isn't  that  Ae  limit?"  he  finally  murmured,  smkmg 
bade  in  his  chair  and  regarding  me  with  puzzled  eyes. 
The  giri,  too,  was  once  more  studying  my  face,  m 
though  my  movement  represented  a  form  of  uncouth 
jocularity  which  she  couM  not  quite  comprehend. 

"What's  the  answer,  anyway?"  asked  the  mystified 

youth.  

But  his  bewilderment  was  as  nothing  compared  to 
mine.  I  readied  over  for  the  string  of  pearls  with  the 
ruby  daspi  I  took  them  and  turned  them  over  and 
over  in  my  hands,  weakly,  mutely,  as  though  Aey 


266    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 


themselves  mig^t  in  some  way  solve  an  enigma  which 
seemed  inscrutable.  And  I  had  to  confess  that  the 
whole  thing  was  too  much  for  me.  I  was  still  lodk- 
ing  down  at  that  lustrous  row  of  pearls,  so  appealing 
to  the  eye  in  tlieir  absolute  and  perfect  graduation, 
when  I  heard  the  younger  man  at  my  side  call  n^ 
name  aloud. 

"KerfootT'  he  said,  not  exactly  in  alarm  and  not 
precisely  in  anxiety,  yet  with  a  newer  note  that  made 
me  look  up  sharply. 

As  I  did  so  I  was  conscious  of  the  figure  so  close 
bdiind  me,  so  near  my  chair  that  even  while  I  had 
already  felt  his  presence  there,  I  had  for  the  moment 
taken  him  for  my  scrupulously  attentive  waiter.  But 
as  I  turned  about  and  looked  up  at  this  figure  I  saw 
that  I  was  mistaken.  My  glance  fell  on  a  wide-shoul- 
dered and  rather  portly  man  with  quiet  and  very  deep^ 
set  gray  eyes.  What  disturbed  me  even  more  than 
his  presence  there  at  my  shoulder  vjzs  the  sense  of 
power,  of  unparaded  superiority,  on  that  impassive  yet 
undeniably  intelligent  face. 

**I  want  to  see  you,"  he  said,  with  an  unemotional 
matter-of-factness  that  m  another  would  have  verged 
on  insolence. 

"About  what?**  I  demanded,  tiymg  to  match  his  im- 
passivity with  my  own. 
He  nodded  toward  the  necklace  in  my  hand. 
"About  that,"  he  replied. 
"What  about  that?"  I  languidly  inquired. 
The  poTtfy  man  at  my  shoulder  did  not  aaerwer  me. 
Imtead  he  turned  uid  nodded  toward  a  seojod «»»?,  a 


In? 


Mi 


A  RIALTO  RAIN-STORM 


2Vf 


man  Standing  ha!f  a  dozen  paces  behind  him,  in  a  damp 
overcoat  and  a  sadly  rumpled  shirt-front 

I  felt  my  heart  beat  faster  of  a  sudden,  for  it  took 
no  second  glance  to  tell  me  that  Ais  second  figure  was 
the  jewel  thief  whom  I  had  trailed  and  cornered  in  the 
musty-smelling  cab. 

I  felt  the  larger  man's  sudden  grip  on  my  shoulder 
—and  his  hand  seemed  to  have  the  strength  of  a  vise 
—as  the  smaller  man,  still  pale  and  dishevded,  stepped 
up  to  the  table.    His  face  was  not  a  pleasant  one. 

Beraiy  Churchill,  whose  solicitous  eyes  bent  for  a 
moment  on  his  sister's  starUed  face,  suddenly  rose  to 

his  feet 

•Look  here,*'  he  said,  with  a  quiet  vigor  of  which  I 
had  not  dreamed  him  capable,  "there's  not  going  to 
be  any  scene  here."  He  turned  to  the  man  at  my  shoul- 
der. "I  don't  know  who  you  are,  but  I  want  you  to 
remember  there's  a  lady  at  this  table.  Remember  that, 
please,  or  I'll  be  compelled  to  teach  you  how  to!" 

"Sit  Ajwn!"  I  told  him.  "For  heaven's  sake,  sit 
down,  rfl  of  you!  There's  nothing  to  be  gamed  by 
heroics.   And  if  we've  anything  to  say,  we  may  as  well 

say  it  decently." 
The  two  men  exchanged  glances  as  I  ordered  two 

diairs  for  them. 

"Be  so  good,"  I  continued,  motioning  them  toward 
these  chairs.  "And  since  we  have  a  problem  to  dis- 
cuss, there's  no  reason  we  can't  discuss  it  in  a  semi- 
civilized  manner." 

"It's  not  a  problem,"  said  the  man  at  my  shoulder, 
with  something  disagreeably  like  a  sneer. 


a68    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


'Then  by  aU  means  don't  let's  make  it  one,"  I  pro- 
tested. 

The  man  behind  me  was  the  first  to  drop  into  the 
empty  seat  on  my  left  The  other  man  crossed  to 
the  farther  side  of  the  table,  still  watching  me  dosdy. 
Then  he  fdt  for  the  chair  and  slowty  sank  into  it;  but 
not  once  did  he  take  his  eyes  from  my  face.  I  was 
glad  that  our  circle  had  become  a  compact  one,  for 
the  five  of  us  were  now  ranged  sufficiently  dose  about 
the  table  to  fence  oflf  our  little  white-linen  kingdom  of 
dissension  from  the  rest  of  the  room. 

"That  man's  armed,  rememberl"  the  jewd  thief 
suddenly  cried  to  the  stranger  on  my  left  He  spoke 
both  wamingly  and  indignantly.  His  flash  of  anger, 
in  fact,  seemed  an  uncontrollable  one. 

"AVhcre's  your  gun?"  said  the  quiet-eyed  man  at 
my  side.  His  own  hand  was  in  his  pocket,  I  noticed, 
and  there  was  a  certain  malignant  line  of  purpose  about 
his  mouth  which  I  did  not  at  all  like. 

Yet  I  was  able  to  laugh  a  little  as  I  put  the  magaane 
revolver  down  on  the  table;  it  had  memories  which 
were  amusing. 

The  quick  motion  with  which  he  removed  that  gun, 
however,  was  even  more  laughable.  Yet  my  returning 
s«ise  of  humor  in  no  way  impressed  him. 

"Where'd  you  get  that  gun?**  he  inquired. 

I  nodded  my  head  toward  the  white-faced  man  op- 
posite me. 

"I  took  it  away  from  your  friend  there,"  wis  my 
answer. 

"And  what  else  did  you  take  V* 


A  RIALTO  RAIN-STORM 


a69 


There  w»8  something  ictwtMwe  about  the  man's 
sheer  impersooaUty.    It  lo  Ljpt  things  down  to  caMt. 

"This  pearl  neddace  with  the  mfaK  €*»^"  ^  *^ 
swered. 

"Why?"  demanded  my  tnterloctttor. 

"Because  he  stole  it,"  was  my  prompt  refort  The 
big  man  was  silent  £or  a  mommt 

"Frwnwhwn?" 

"From  the  lady  you  have  the  honor  of  fadng."  I 
answered. 

"Where?"  was  Hs  next  question. 

Itddhim.  He  was  again  silent  for  a  second  or  two. 

"D'yott  know  who  this  man  is?"  he  said,  with  a 
curt  head-nod  toward  his  white-faced  odkague. 

•*Yes,"  I  answered. 

"What  is  he?" 

"He's  a  jewd  Aief ." 

The  two  men  stared  at  each  oAer.  Then  tfie  man 
at  my  side  rubbed  his  chin  between  a  meditative  thumb 
and  forefinger.  He  was  plainty  puzzled.  He  began  to 
take  on  human  attribotes,  and  he  promptly  became  a 
less  interesting  and  a  less  impress!^  figure.  He  looked 
at  Alice  Churdiill  and  at  her  bromer,  and  then  bade 
at  me  again. 

Then,  having  once  more  absently  caressed  his  diin, 
he  swung  about  and  faced  tlM  wondering  and  silent 
girl  who  sat  opponte  him. 

''^SxGUse  me,  nuas,  but  would  yon  mfaid  answerhig 
a  question  or  two?" 

It  was  her  brother  who  spoke  before  she  had  time 
to  answer. 


27©    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


} 


"Wait,"  he  interposed  "Just  who  are  you,  any- 
way?^ 

The  man,  for  answer,  Kfted  the  1^  of  hit  coat 
and  exhibited  a  sihrer  badge. 

"Wen,  what  does  that  mean?"  demanded  the  quite 
unimpressed  youth. 

"That  I'm  an  officer." 

"What  kind— a  detective?" 

"Yes." 

"For  what?    For  this  place?" 

"No,  for  the  Maiden  Lane  Protective  Assodation." 

"Weil,  what's  that  got  to  do  with  us?" 

The  large-bodied  man  looked  at  him  a  little  fan- 
patiently. 

"You'H  understand  that  when  the  time  comet,"  was 
his  retort  "Now,  young  lady,"  he  began  agaui,  swing- 
faig  back  to  the  puzzled  girl,  "do  yoo  say  you  lost  a 
iiccklace  in  that  theate»4)0K?" 

The  girt  nodded. 

"Yes,  I  must  have,"  she  answered,  looking  a  little 
frightened. 

"And  you  say  it  wat  stx^en  from  you?" 
"No.  I  didn't  say  «iat.    I  had  my  necklace  on  when 
I  was  in  the  box— both  Benny  and  I  know  that** 
"And  it  disappeaitd?" 
"Yes." 
"When?" 

"I  noticed  it  was  gone  when  I  sat  down  at  tiie  table 
here." 

The  dominatuig  gentleman  turned  round  to  me. 


A  RIALTO  RMN-STORli 


«7i 


'•You  saw  Ae  neddace  from  the  mtanA  booir  he 
demanded. 

"I  did;  was  my  answer. 

"And  yoo  saw  it  disi^ear?"  he  demmded. 

"I  saw  when  it  disapfjeared,"  I  retorted. 

The  jewd  thief  with  the  cnffl^led  shht-front  tried 
to  break  in  at  this  juncture,  but  the  bigger  man  quickly 
sUenced  him  with  an  impatient  side  swing  of  Ae 

hand. 

"When  was  that?"  he  continued. 

"What  difference  does  it  maker  I  cahnfy  inqmred. 
resenting  the  pereinptoriness  of  his  interrogations. 

H'  8toK>ed  short  and  k)okcd  tip  at  me.  Then  tlic 
firs,  inost  of  a  smile,  a  patient  and  ahnost  sortowfol 
smile,  came  to  his  ^». 

"Well,  we'll  go  at  it  another  way.  You  witnessed 
this  man  across  the  teWe  take  the  necklace  from  the 

young  lady?" 
"It  practically  amounts  to  that" 
"That  is,  you  actus^'    defected  him  comndt  this 

crime?" 
"I  don't  think  I  said  I. 

"But  you  assumed  he  committed  this  crime?" 
'•Rather." 

"Just  when  was  it  committed?" 
"During  what  they  caB  m  dafk  change  ia  the  first 

act" 

"You  mean  flie  neddace  was  on  hefore  that  change 
and  gone  when  the  Kghts  were  turned  up  agldiir 

"Predsciy.- 


il 


i 

} 

1 

■  i 

9^2    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

"And  the  poutkm  and  actioat  of  this  man  wen 
tuspidous  to  yott?'' 

"Extremdy  ao." 

**In  what  wayr 

"In  different  ways." 

"He  had  crowded  suspidoasly  doie  to  the  wearer 
of  the  necklace?" 

"He  had." 

"And  his  eyes  were  ghied  on  ft  during  the  early 
part  of  that  act?" 
"They  certainly  were." 
"And  yott  watched  him?" 

"With  ahnoitas  much  Interest  as  he  watdied  the 
necldace:" 

"And  after  the  dark  changes  as  yoa  call  U;  the  lady's 
neck  was  bare?* 

"It  was.- 

"You're  sure  of  tfiisr 
"Positive." 

"And  what  <fid  this  nnn  across  the  table  do?" 
"Having  got  what  he  was  after,  he  hurried  out  of 
the  theater  and  made  his  escape-or  tried  to  make  his 


"It  embarrassed  him,  I  st^pose,  to  have  you  study- 
ing him  so  closely?" 

"He  certainly  looked  embarrassed." 

"Of  course,"  admitted  my  interrogator.  Then  he 
aighed  deef^,  almost  contentedly,  after  which  he  sat 
with  coQtenq>lative  and  pursed-up  lips. 

"I  guess  Fve  got  Ais  whole  snarl  now,"  he  com- 
placently admitted.    "AH  but  one  kink." 


A  RIALTO  RAXK-STORM 


sn 


«Whti  ooe  Wnkr  dwiMidcd  Boiiqr  CIiiwM. 
TheiBMiitiiiyiidedkliiotiiiwrtrWiii.   InslM, 

!!ero§etoWtf«et  -,___ 

*1  want  r»  to  cane  iHlli  m^"  l>e  liid  the^ooterjr 

to  remark,  with  »  curt  heid-nod  In  injr  difwtioii, 

"I  nmeh  prefer  itayli*  IMW,"  I  wlortwL   A«X  for 

the  secmMl  thnehe  nniled  his  laddcnrd  anile. 

"Oh,  it's  noAing  objectionable."  he  explained.  "No- 
body's gotag  to  hart  yon.   And  wiW  he  back  here  m 

ten  minutes." 

"But,  oddly  enough,  I  haye  rooted  objections  to  de- 
serting nrjT  guests." 

"Your  guests  won't  be  sorry,  I  hnagine,"  be  replied, 
as  he  kxiked  at  his  silver  tnndp  of  a  watch.  "And 
we're  k>shig  good  thne." 

"Please  go^"  said  Afice  Ontrdiill,  emboldened,  $9- 
parentty,  by  some  instincthre  conduskm  which  she 
could  not,  or  did  not  care  to^  «E|Wn.  And  she  was 
backed  up,  I  noticed,  by  a  nod  from  her  brother. 

I  also  noticed.  asIrpsetouiyfeet,AatIstinh«id 
theneckbceinmyhand.    I  was  a  little  pussled  as  to 

just  what  to  do  with  it 

"That,"  said  the  sagadous  stranger,  ''you'd  better 
leave  here.  Let  the  young  hAy  keep  it  until  we  get 
back.  And  you.  Feasant,"  he  went  on,  tnmhig  to  the 
belligerent-lipped  jewd  thief,  **yoa  stiqr  rigirt  here  and 
make  yourself  pleasant  And  without  bein*  rude,  you 
might  see  that  the  young  lady  and  her  brother  stay 
right  here  with  you." 

Then  he  took  me  coo^amonaMy  by  Ae  arm  and 

led  me  awqr. 


IH 


II 

!»• 

5 

#74   THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

'^Vbafi  fhe  exact  meaning  of  aU  tfaUr  I  inquiied 
aa  we  tfareadcd  our  coune  out  to  the  cab«taqd  and 
went  dodging  westward  along  Forty-third  Street  k  a 
tasd.  The  rain,  I  noticed,  throu|^  the  fogged  window, 
was  itiQ  faffing. 

"I  want  you  to  ihow  me  exactly  where  that  man  set 
in  that  box,"  was  his  answer.  "And  two  minutes  in 
the  tiieatcr  will  do  it." 

"And  what  good,"  I  inquired,  "is  that  going  to  do 
mer 

"It  may  do  yon  a  lot  of  good,"  he  retorted,  as  he 
flung  open  th^  cab  door. 

"I  fed  rather  sorry  lor  you  if  it  doesnV  was  my 
answer  as  I  folk>wed  him  out  We  had  drawn  t^be- 
f ore  a  desolate-looking  stage  door  over  which  burned 
an  even  more  dcsobte-kxAing  dectric  bulb.  The  man 
tmned  and  looked  at  me  with  a  short  gho^  of  a 
grunt,  more  of  dUgust  than  csmtempt 

"You're  pretty  nifty,  aren't  you,  for  a  New  York 
edition  of  Jesse  James?" 

And  wiUiout  waiting  for  nay  answer  he  b^ian  Iddc- 
ing  on  the  shabby-kx^ng  stage  door  with  his  foot 
He  was  still  kkking  there  when  the  door  itself  was 
opened  by  a  man  m  a  gray  unifcmn,  obviously  the 
night  watdmian. 

"HeUo,  Timr'  said  the  one. 

"HeUo^  Bndl"  said  the  other. 

'IXxmnan  gcme?" 

"  'Bout  an  hour  ago  I" 

Then  ensoed  a  moa«jent  of  silence. 

"Burnnde  say  anythmg  was  turned  in  ?" 


A  WALTO  RAIN-STOMff 


•71 


"DMn't  haw  of  it,"  wti  the  wMi«Mrt 

«My  Ifkwl  hm  thtato  Wi  kit  loiMthiiig  k  % 
box.   Could  yoo  let  m  tliiwiiJir 

"Sure,"  WM  Ae  etty  roponte;  'TB  throw  on  ttie 
house-lights  for  yottie.    Watch  your  w^r 

He  preceded  ut  through  a  iwue  of  pifated  canm 
and  what  looked  fflw  the  backt  of  gigantic  pietore- 
framen.  He  ftepped  aride  for  a  moment  to  turn  on  a 
switch.  Then  he  opened  a  narrow  doci  cofered  with 
sheet-iron,  and  we  found  ouredfes  fadag  the  hox  en- 
trances. 

My  con^aidon  mo^oned  me  Into  the  te^cnd  taac 
while  he  ftepped  briskly  faito  that  nearer  the  foot-Hghtt. 

"Now,  the  young  hdy  sat  tiiere,"  he  laid,  placing  the 
gilt  chair  bade  agttost  Ae  brasi  ratting.  Th«hesat 
down  in  it,  fac^  the  stage.  Havbg  done  so,  he 
took  off  Ws  hat  and  phwed  it  on  the  boot  floor.  "Now 
you  show  me  where  tiiat  man  sat" 

I  placed  the  chahr  against  the  phish-covered  parapet 
and  dropped  into  it 

"Here,"  I  explained,  **within  two  feet  of  where  you 


„ 


are. 

"All  right!"  was  his  sudden  and  qinte  unexpected 
rejwnder.    "Thafs  enough!    That'fl  dof 

He  reached  down  sad  groped  about  for  Ms  hat  be- 
fore rising  from  the  diair.  Ife  brwhed  it  with  the 
sleeve  <rf  hia  coat  absent,  and  then  stuped  oul  of 

the  box. 

"We'd  better  be  gelthig  bade,"  he  called  to  ne  from 
the  sheet-iTWi  Covered  *todrw^r. 

"Back  to  what?"  I  demanded,  uf  ^MtsmiUatrnt. 


2^6    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

tiuoagh  tlM  canvas-lined  maze  again,  feeling  that  he 
was  in  some  way  tricking  me,  resenting  the  footish 
mystery  which  he  was  flinging  about  the  whole  foolish 
maneuvCT. 

"Back  to  those  guests  of  yours  and  some  good  old- 
fashioned  common  sense,"  was  his  retort 
,,  But  during  the  ride  back  to  Sherry's  he  had  noth- 
ing further  to  say  to  me.  His  a^  swers  to  the  que»> 
tions  I  put  to  him  were  either  evasive  or  monosyllabic 
He  even  yawned,  yawned  openly  and  audibly,  as  we 
drew  up  at  the  carriage  entrance  of  that  munificently 
lighted  hostehy.  He  now  seemed  nothing  more  than 
a  commonplace  man  tired  out  at  the  completion  of  a 
commonplace  task.  He  even  seemed  a  trifle  impatient 
at  my  delay  as  I  waited  to  check  my  hat  and  coat— 
a  formality  in  which  he  did  not  job  me. 

"Now,  I  can  give  you  people  just  two  minutes,"  he 
said,  as  the  five  of  us  were  once  more  seated  at  the 
same  table  and  he  once  more  consulted  his  turnip  of 
a  watch.    "And  I  guess  that's  more'n  we'll  need." 

He  turned  to  the  wan  and  tired-eyed  girl,  who,  only 
too  plainly,  had  not  altogether  enjoyed  her  wait 

"You've  got  the  necklace?"  he  asked. 

She  held  up  a  hand  from  which  the  string  of  grad- 
uated pearls  dangled.    The  man  then  turned  to  me. 

"You  took  this  string  of  pearls  away  from  this 
man?"  he  asked,  with  a  quick  nod  toward  the  jewel 
thief. 

"I  assuredly  did,"  was  my  answer. 
"Knowing  he  had  taken  them  from  this  young  lady 
cariier  in  the  evening?" 


A  RIALTO  RAIN-STORM 


^7! 


"Your  asstnnption  bears  every  nark  of  gemusr  I 
assured  him. 

He  turned  back  to  the  girl 

"Is  that  your  necklace?"  he  curtly  demanded. 

The  girl  looked  at  me  with  clouded  and  troubled 
eyes.  We  all  felt,  ui  some  foolish  way,  that  the  mo- 
ment was  a  climactic  erne. 

"No!"  she  answered,  in  little  more  than  a  whisper. 

"You're  positive?" 

She  nodded  her  head  without  speaking.  The  man 
turned  to  me. 

"Yet  you  followed  this  man,  assaulted  him,  and 
forcibly  took  that  necklace  away  from  him?" 

"Hold  onl"  I  cried,  angered  by  that  cahnly  peda- 
gogic manner  of  his.    "I  want  you  to  un — ^" 

He  stopped  me  with  a  sharp  move  of  the  hand. 

'Tton't  go  over  all  thatl"  he  said.  "Ifs  a  waste  of 
time.  The  point  is,  that  necklace  is  not  your  friend's. 
But  Fm  going  to  tell  you  what  it  is.  It's  a  duplicate 
of  ft,  stone  for  stone.  The  lady,  I  think,  will  agree 
with  me  on  that    Am  I  right?" 

Tlie  girl  nodded. 

"Then  what  the  devil's  this  man  domg  with  it?" 
demanded  Benny  Churchill,  before  any  of  us  could 
speak. 

"S'pose  you  wait  and  find  out  who  this  man  isf 

"Well,  who  is  he?"  I  inquired,  resolved  that  no 
hand,  however  artful,  was  going  to  pull  the  wool  over 
my  eyes. 

"This  man,"  said  my  unperturbed  and  big-shoul- 
dered friend,  **is  the  pearl-matdier  for  Cohoi  vA 


1^ 


.  f 


278    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

Greeniitit,  the  Maiden  Lane  importers.  Wait,  don't 
interrupt  me.  Miss  Churchill's  necklace,  I  understand, 
was  one  of  the  finest  in  this  town.  His  house  had  an 
order  to  duplicate  it  He  took  the  first  chance,  when 
the  pearls  had  been  matched  and  strung,  to  see  that 
he'd  done  his  job  right" 

"And  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  I  cried,  "that  he  hung 
over  a  box-rail  and  lifted  a  string  of  pearls  from  a 
lad/s  neck  just  to—" 

"Hold  on  there,  my  friend,"  cut  in  the  big-4mibed 
maa  "He  found  this  hdy  was  going  to  be  in  that 
box  wearin'  that  necklace." 

"And  having  reviewed  its  diaste  beauty,  he  sneaked 
out  of  his  own  box  and  ran  like  a  chased  curl" 

"Hold  your  hor^s  now!  Can't  you  sm  that  he 
thought  yon  were  the  erode?  If  you  had  a  bimch  of 
stones  like  that  on  you  and  a  stranger  butted  in  and 
started  trailin'  you,  wouldn't  you  do  your  best  to  melt 
SLVfzy  when  you  had  the  chance?"  demanded  the  of- 
ficer. Then  he  looked  at  me  again  with  his  wearily 
uplifted  eyebrows.  "Oh,  I  gMSs  you  were  all  right  as 
far  as  you  went,  but,  like  most  amateurs,  yea  didn't 
go  quite  far  enough  P' 

It  was  Benny  Churchill  who  spoke  up  before  I  oovild 
answer.  His  v(nce,  as  he  spoke,  was  oddly  thin  and 
childlike. 

"But  why  in  heaven's  ramt  should  he  want  to  dtq^ 
cate  my  Aster's  jewehy?" 

'Tor  another  woman,  with  more  money  than  brains, 
or  the  know-lK>w,  or  whatever  you  want  to  caU  it," 
was  the  impassive  response. 


li 


A  RIALTO  RAIN-STORM 


379 


I  saw  the  girl  across  the  table  from  me  push  the 
necklace  away  from  her,  and  leave  it  lying  there  in  a 
glimmering  heap  on  Ae  white  table.  I  pronq»tly  and 
quietly  reached  out  and  took  possession  of  it,  for  I 
still  had  my  own  ideas  of  the  situation. 

"That's  all  very  weU,"  I  cried,  "and  very  interesting. 
But  what  I  want  to  know  is:  who  got  the  first  neck- 

lacer 
The  big-framed  maw  looked  once  more  at  his  watch. 

Then  he  looked  a  little  wearily  at  me. 

"I  got  'em!" 

"You've  got  them?"  echoed  both  the  g^rl  and  her 
brother.  It  was  plain  that  the  inconsequentiaUties  of 
the  last  hour  had  been  a  little  too  much  for  them. 

The  man  thrust  a  huge  hand  down  in  the  pocket  of 
his  damp  and  somewhat  unshapely  overcoat 

"Yes,  I  got  'em  here,"  he  explained  as  he  drew  his 
hand  away  and  held  the  glimmering  string  up  to  the 
light.  "I  picked  'em  up  from  the  comer  of  that  box 
where  they  slipped  off  the  lady's  neck." 

He  rose  pladdty  and  ponderously  to  his  feet 

"And  I  guess  thaf s  about  all,"  he  added  as  he 
squinted  through  an  uncurtained  strip  of  plate  glass 
and  slowly  turned  up  his  coat  collar,  "except  that  some 
of  us  outdoor  guysH  sure  get  wAfooted  if  this  rain 
keeps  upr* 


.1 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  THUMB-TAP  CLUE 

J  WAS  being  followed.  Of  that  there  was  no  longer 
*  a  shadow  of  doubt  Move  by  move  and  turn  by 
turn,  for  even  longer  than  I  had  been  openty  aware 
of  it,  some  one  had  been  quietly  diadowing  me. 

Now,  if  one  thing  more  than  another  stirs  the  blood 
of  the  man  who  has  occasion  to  walk  by  nig^t,  it  is 
the  discovery  that  his  steps  are  being  dogged.  The 
thought  of  being  watched,  of  having  a  possible  enemy 
behind  one,  wakens  a  thrill  that  is  ancestral. 

So,  instead  of  continuing  my  busily  aimless  circuit 
about  that  high-spiked  iron  fence  which  encloses  Gra- 
mercy  Pirk,  I  shot  off  at  a  tangent,  continuing  from 
its  northwest  comer  in  a  straight  line  toward  Fourth 
Avenue  and  Broadway. 

I  had  thought  myself  alone  m  that  midnight  abode 
of  quietness.  Only  the  dread  of  a  second  sleepless 
night  had  kept  me  there,  goading  me  on  in  my  febrile 
revolutions  until  weariness  should  send  me  stumbling 
oflF  my  circuit  like  a  six-day  rider  oflf  his  wheeL 

Once  I  was  in  the  house-shadows  wher«  Twenty-first 
Street  again  begins  I  swung  about  and  waited.  I 
stood  there,  in  a  sort  of  quiet  belligerency,  watching 
the  figure  of  the  man  who  had  been  dogging  my  steps. 
I  saw  him  turn  southward  in  the  square,  as  though  my 
flight  were  a  matter  of  indiflferenre  to  him.  Yet  the 
sudden  relieving  thought  that  his  movements  might 

380 


THE  THUMB-TAP  CLUE 


281 


have  been  as  aimless  as  my  own  was  swallowed  up  by 
a  second  and  more  interesting  discovery. 

It  was  the  discovery  that  the  man  whom  I  had  ac- 
cepted as  following  mc  was  in  turn  being  followed  by 
yet  another  man. 

I  waited  until  this  strange  pair  liad  made  a  full 
circuit  of  the  iron-fenced  enclosure.  Then  I  turned 
back  into  the  square,  walking  southward  until  I  came 
opposite  my  own  house  door.  The  second  man  must 
have  seen  me  as  I  did  so.  Apparently  suspicious  of 
possible  espionage,  he  loitered  with  assumed  careless- 
ness at  the  park's  southern  comer.  The  first  man, 
tlie  slighter  and  younger-looking  figure  of  the  two, 
kept  on  his  unheeding  way,  as  though  he  were  the 
ghost-like  compctitw  in  some  endless  nightmare  of  a 
Marathon. 

My  contemplation  of  him  was  interrupted  by  the 
advent  of  a  fourth  figure,  a  figure  which  seemed  to 
bring  something  sane  and  reassuring  to  a  situation 
that  was  momentarily  growing  more  ridiculous.  For 
the  newcomer  was  McCooey,  the  patrolman.  He 
swung  around  to  me  without  speaking,  like  a  ferry 
swinging  into  its  slip.  Then  he  stood  looking  impas- 
sively up  at  the  impassive  November  stars. 

"Yuh're  out  late,"  he  finally  commented,  with  that 
careless  ponderosity  which  is  the  step-child  of  unques- 
tioned authority. 

"McCooey,"  I  said,  "there's  a  night  prowler  going 
around  this  park  of  yours.  He's  doing  it  for  about 
the  one  hundred  and  tenth  time.  Aud  I  wish  you'd 
find  out  what  in  heaven  he  means  by  it" 


? 

^ 

i 


;i! 


1 

! 
L.  I 


282    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

"Been  disturbin'  yuh?"  casually  asked  the  law  ito. 
camate.  Yet  he  put  the  question  as  an  indulgent  phyi> 
sidan  might  to  a  patient.  McCooey  was  of  that  type 
which  it  is  both  a  joy  and  a  temptation  to  mystify. 

"He's  assaulted  my  curiosity,"  I  solemnly  caa. 
plained. 

"D'  yuh  mean  he's  been  interferin'  wid  yuh?"  de- 
manded my  litvTal  friend. 

"I  mean  he's  invaded  my  peace  of  nMnd." 

"Then  I'll  see  what  he's  afther,"  was  the  other's 
answer.  And  a  moment  later  he  was  swinging  negli- 
gently out  across  the  pavement  at  a  line  which  would 
converge  with  the  path  of  the  nervously  pacing  strang- 
er. I  could  see  the  two  round  the  comer  almost  to- 
gether. I  could  see  McCooey  draw  nearer  and  nearer. 
I  could  even  see  that  he  had  turned  and  spoken  to  the 
night  walker  as  they  went  down  the  square  together 
past  the  lights  of  the  Players. 

I  could  see  that  this  night-walker  showed  neither 
resentment  nor  alarm  at  being  so  accosted.  And  I 
could  also  sec  that  the  meeting  of  the  two  was  a  source 
of  much  mystification  to  the  third  man,  the  man  who 
still  kept  a  discreet  watch  from  the  street  comer  on 
my  right. 

McCooey  swung  back  to  where  I  stood.  He  swung 
back  resoitfully,  like  a  retriever  who  had  been  sent  on 
a  blind  trail. 

"What's  he  after,  anyway?"  I  irritably  inquired. 

"He  says  he's  afther  sleep!" 

"After  what  ?"I  demanded. 

McCooey  blinked  up  at  a  sky  suddenly  reddened  by 


m 


THE  THUMB-TAP  CLUE 


283 


an  East  River  gas-flare,  then  he  took  a  deep  and  dis- 
interested breath. 

"He  says  he's  afther  deep,"  repeated  the  patrol- 
man. "Unless  he  gets  her,  says  he,  he's  goin  to  walk 
into  the  East  River.'* 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  man,  anyway?"  I  asked, 
for  that  confession  had  brought  the  pacing  stranger 
into  something  very  cU  ^e  and  kindred  to  me. 

"'Tis  nothin'  much,"  was  the  big  man's  answer. 
"Like  as  not  he's  been  over-eatin'  and  havin*  a  bad 

night  or  two." 

And  with  that  my  friend  the  patrohnan,  turning  on 
his  heel,  pursued  his  way  through  the  quiet  canyons  of 
the  streets  where  a  thousand  happy  sleepers  knew 
nothing  of  his  coming  and  saw  nothing  of  his  going. 

I  stood  there,  looking  after  him  as  he  went  Then 
I  crossed  to  the  northwest  comer  of  that  iron-fenced 
enclosure  raid  waited  for  that  youth  whom  the  arm  of 
wakefulness  was  swinging  about  like  a  stone  in  a  rling. 

I  deliberately  blocked  his  way  as  he  tried  to  edge 
irritably  about  me. 

"Pardon  me,"  I  began.  He  looked  up^  like  a  som- 
nambulist suddenly  awakened.  "Pardon  me,  but  I 
think  I  ought  to  warn  you  that  you  are  being  fol^ 
lowed." 

"Amir 

"Yes;  and  I  think  you  ought  to  know  it" 

"Oh,  I  know  it,"  was  his  apathetic  response.  'Tin 
even  beginning  to  get  used  to  it" 

He  stepped  hack  and  leaned  against  the  iron  fence. 
His  face,  under  the  street-lamps,  was  a  very  unhappy 


w- 


384    THE  MAN  WHO  CX)ULDNT  SLEEP 

looking  one.  It  carried  a  woebegone  impassivity,  tlie 
impassivity  which  implied  he  was  so  salimerged  in  mis- 
ery that  no  further  blow  could  be  of  consequence  to 
him.  And  yet,  beyond  the  fixed  pallor  of  that  face  tbert 
was  something  appealing,  some  trace  of  finer  things, 
some  touch  which  told  me  that  he  and  the  noctumi^ 
underworld  had  nothing  in  common. 

"But  are  you  getting  used  to  the  other  thing?"  I 
asked. 

"What  other  thing?"  was  his  slow  inquiry.  I  coukl 
see  the  twin  fires  of  some  dull  fever  burning  m  the 
depths  of  his  cavernous  ^es. 

"Going  without  sleep,"  I  answered.  For  the  sec- 
ond time  he  stwed  at  me. 

"But  I'm  going  to  sleep,"  he  answered.  "I've  got 
tor 

"We  all  have  to,"  I  platitudinously  remarked.  "But 
there  are  times  when  we  all  don't." 

He  laughed  a  curious  little  mirthless  lat^. 

"Are  you  ever  troubled  that  way?"  he  asked. 

We  stood  there  facing  each  other,  like  two  kindred 
ghosts  communing  amid  the  quietness  of  a  catacomb 
Then  I  laughed,  but  not  so  bitterl;  I  hope,  as  he  had 
done. 

"I've  walked  this  square,"  I  told  him,  "a  thousand 
times  to  your  one." 

"I've  been  doing  it  Itere  for  the  last  three  hours," 
he  qtnetly  confessed. 

"And  it's  done  you  up,"  I  rejoined.  "And  what 
we  both  need  is  a  quiet  smoke  and  an  hour  or  two 
with  our  feet  up  on  something?" 


m 


JTHE  THUMB-TAP  CLUE 


285 


"Tliaf  •  very  good  of  you."  he  had  the  gnw*  to  ad- 
mit, as  his  gaie  lolloired  miiie  toward  Ae  house  door. 
"But  there  are  a  number  of  things  I've  got  to  Aink 

out" 
He  was  a  decent  sort   There  was  no  doubt  of  that 

But  it  was  equa%  plain  that  he  was  in  a  bad  way 
about  something  or  other. 
"Let's  think  it  out  together!"  I  had  the  boldness  to 

suggest 

He  laughed  mirthlessly,  though  he  was  already  mov- 
ing southward  along  the  square  with  me  as  he  began 
to  speak  agaia 

"There  is  sometfiing  Tve  got  to  think  out  alone,"  he 
told  me.  He  spoke,  this  time  without  resentmoit,  and 
Iwasgladofit  That  unhappy-eyed  youth  had  in  some 
way  got  a  grip,  if  not  on  my  affection,  at  least  on  my 
interest  And  in  our  hifirmity  we  had  a  bond  of  sym- 
pathy. We  were  like  two  refugees  pursued  by  the 
same  bloodhounds  and  seeking  the  same  traib  of 
escape.  I  felt  that  I  was  violating  no  principle  of  reti- 
cence in  taldng  hun  by  the  arm. 

"But  why  can't  you  slip  in  to  my  digs,"  I  suggested, 
"lor  a  smoke  and  a  drop  of  Bristol  Milk?" 

I  was  actually  wheedling  and  coaxing  him,  as  a  stub- 
bom  child  is  coaxed. 

"Milkr  he  murmured.    *T  never  drink  miBc" 

"But,  my  dear  man,  Bristol  Milk  isn't  the  kind  that 
comes  from  cows.  It's  seventy-year  old  sherry  that^s 
been  sent  on  a  sea-vcqrage  to  Australia  and  back.  It's 
something  that's  <m1  to  the  throat  and  music  to  ^ 
senses  1" 


m 


in 


a86    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

He  looked  at  me  at  though  the  whole  wi<Mi  oi  a 
Hudson  River  flowed  between  us. 

That  sounds  appealing/'  he  adcnowledfed.  "Bat 
I'm  in  a  mess  that  even  Bristol  Milk  won't  wadi  me 
out  of." 

"Well,  if  it's  that  bad,  it's  worth  forgetting  for  an 
hour  or  two  I"  I  announced.  He  laug^wd  »pint  re- 
laxingty.  I  took  a  fimKr  and  more  fraternal  grip  on 
his  arm. 

And  side  1^  side  we  went  up  ibt  steps  and  tiirough 
the  door  into  the  quietness  of  that  sober-fronted  house 
which  I  still  called  by  the  empty  name  of  home. 

In  five  minutes  I  had  a  hickory  1<^  ablaze  in  0xt  fire- 
place, the  library-chairs  drawn  up,  and  CrisweB,  my 
captive,  with  bis  hat  and  coat  off.  At  his  side  stood  a 
I^te  of  biscuits  and  a  ghss  of  Bristol  Milk.  But  he 
seemed  to  find  more  consolati(m  in  sittii^  bade  and 
peering  at  the  play  of  the  flames.  His  face  was  a 
very  tired  one.  The  skin  was  clammy  and  dead-look- 
ing; and  ytt  from  the  depths  of  that  fatigue  flare<^  he 
familiar  ironic  white  lights  of  wakefulness.  I  tfdnk 
I  knew  about  how  he  f dt 

We  sat  there  without  speaking,  yet  not  unconsdouS 
of  a  silent  communirn  of  thought  I  knew,  however, 
that  Bristol  Milk  was  not  in  the  habit  of  leaving  a 
man  long  tongued-tied.  So  I  turned  to  rdill  his  ^ass. 
'  had  noticed  that  his  hands  were  i^aky,  just  as  I  had 
noticed  the  telltale  twitdi  to  one  of  his  eydids.  But 
when  his  imcontrolled  fingers  acddently  knotted  Obt 
glBss  from  tiie  edge  ol  the  table,  it  gave  me  a  lUt  of 
a  start. 


THE  THUMBrtAP  CLUE 


ai7 


He  tut  «li««  i«*Nf  ■^««diMjr  «fcwm  »l  the  tcit- 
tered  piecet  ol  oyitaL 

"It's  helir  lie  taddenly  tent  out 

"What  iif  I  inqpiiwd. 

"Being  in  Ail  tort  of  ih^*!"  WM  ^vehe««t 
response.  I  did  iiot  i«init  inyiidl  to  loAjU  to 
Sympa%  WM  i»t  the  lort  ol  thing  he  aeed^  Ser- 
enty-yeer-oM  ihemr.  I  felt,  wet  more  to  *»»*  IW^ 

"Espedally  when  we  haven't  any  exoite  for  it,  I 
lazily  Scented,  paswng  him  a  leawl  gius*  SOmg 

it  and  turning  to  watdi  the  fire. 
•^a«^«t«ff,  that  Bri-tol  Milk."  he  «id  wi^ 

catch  of  4e  hrea&  Ihat  was  too  short  to  be  a^» 
sigh.  Then,  ianghing  and  wiping  the  sweat  faom  tea 
f ordiead.  he  went  on  with  an  incoherence  Aat  ap- 
preached  that  of  childhood. 

"YyegotoMeseutt*' 

I  waited  for  a  moment  or  two. 

"Whatisitr  ^  .  _ 

"That  man  you  saw  trailing  me  around  the  square. 

for  one  thing."  .  .,. 

"Even  that  isn't  altogether  an  excuse."  I  mamtained. 

"But  H's  what  he  stands  for."  protested  my  visitor. 
He  sat  staring  faito  the  Ere  for  a  minute  or  twa  I^ 
beside  him.  again  conscioas  oi  some  inartictilate  and 

evasive  oompanionshipi 

"How  ^  it  begin?"  I  finally  aaked. 

He  took  a  deep  bfwA.  Then  he  dosed  lus  eyes. 
And  when  he  spoke  he  did  so  witho^  opening  tfiw. 

"I  doa'«  Aink.I  oould  explain,"  was  his  hstlesa 
answer. 


THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

'*ICak«  a  tiy  at  it,"  I  ttffid.    'l^if •  vioiflilt  tft 

tlifaif .  caaaUst  it   Left  tlirow  a  liltk  liglit  and  Of^ 
into  it" 

H«  moved  hit  haul  up  and  down,  liofrfyt  aa  tlm^' 
he  had  eome  vague  comprehennoQ  of  the  p^ycbologr 
of  orafeteioii,  tome  kncMrledge  of  the  advatrtagw  of 
"exterioratiiig"  tecitt  offcniee.  Then  he  lat  vcit  MiO 
and  tense. 

"But  thereof  no  way  of  ventiktinjthi^  Then^tao 
way  of  Icnoddng  a  window  in  it  It'a-if  a  only  a 
bhuik  wall"  ^ 

"Why  a  bhmic  waUr  I  hiquind. 

He  turned  and  looioed  part  me,  with  unaeeiiif  lyct. 

''Bicmue  I  cm'irmimbir/' he  uid  in  A  vokx^ifuA 
made  it  seem  that  he  was  speaidng  more  to  hfansdf 
than  to  me.  He  looked  about  him,  with  a  helptessMss 
tl»t  was  pitiful  "I  can't  rcmemberr  he  r^icated, 
witfi  the  forlomness  of  a  frightened  child. 

"That's  exactly  what  I  wanted  to  get  at,"  I  cried, 
with  a  pretense  at  confident  and  careless  intimacy.  "So 
let's  clear  away  in  front  of  the  blanlc  wall  Let's  at 
least  try  a  Iridc  or  two  at  it" 
"It's  no  use,"  he  complained. 
"WeU,  let's  tfy,"  I  persisted,  with  forced  cheeHul- 
ness.    "Let's  get  at  the  beginning  of  things." 

"How  far  beck  do  you  want  me  to  go?"  he  finally 
asked.    He  spoke  with  the  weary  listkssness  of  a  pa- 
tient confronted  by  an  unwelcome  piactitioner. 
"Let's  begin  right  at  the  first,"  I  blithely  st^get^d 
He  sat  kxTking  at  his  shaking  fingers  for  a  moniettt 
or  two. 


THB  THUICB-TAP  aXJS 


^ 


*niief^t  mJfy  nMag  nmch  to  begin  at,"  ht  tritd 
to  cscpfaiiii.  **Thm  tfiinp  don't  Mem  to  begin  in  a 
minute,  or  an  hour,  or  a  dMf/*  ^  .     ,.,    ^ 

"Of  oovne  not,"  I  aaiented  aa  I  waited  for  mm  to 

ffo  on* 

"The  thing  I  noticed  at  Hnt  time,  about  tlM  on^r 
thing  I  even  thou|^  of,  v  « that  my  memory  liisroed 
to  have  a  blind  ipot-a  blina  ^ot  the  lame  aa  an  cy« 

has." 

"lUr   laaked.   "^  Ofverworidngr* 

"I  guess  I'd  been  pounding  away  pretty  hard.  I 
know  I  had.  You  see,  I  wanted  to  malce  good  inlhat 
office    So  I  must  have  been  biting  off  more  than  I 

could  diew." 

"What  office?"  I  asked  as  he  came  to  a  stop.  He 
looked  up  at  me  with  a  sure  of  da»d  perplexity. 

"Didn't  I  ten  you  thatf  he  asked,  nassaging  Wa 
frontal  bone  witii  the  ends  of  his  unsteady  fingers. 
"Why,  I  mean  John  Lockwood's  office." 

"John  Lockwood?"  I  repeated,  with  a  sudden  tight- 
ening of  the  nerves.  ^Do  you  mean  the  raihvay-invest- 
ment  n»an,  the  man  who  made  so  many  millions  up 
along  the  northwest  coast?" 

The  youth  in  the  chair  nodded.  And  I  made  an 
effort  to  control  niy  feelings,  for  John  Lodcwood,  I 
knew  only  too  well,  was  the  father  of  Mary  Lockwood. 
He,  like  mysdf,  had  exploited  Ae  Frozen  North,  but 
had  exploited  it  in  a  manner  veiy  different  from 

mine. 
"Go  on,"  I  said,  after  quite  a  kmg  pause. 

"Lockwood  broo|^  me  down  from  the  Canadian 


■iiiliail 


jl 


290    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

Northen,  offices  in  Winnipeg.    He  said  he'd  gire  me 
a  dumce  m  the  East-^e  chance  of  my  life."  ^ 
What  were  you  in  his  office?" 

don  t  think  he  knew  what  I  was  himself." 
And  he  let  you  overwork  yourself?" 

sJiV  "^'^^^  ^^''    It  wasn't  his  fault    You 
a  good  deal  of  the  time.    He  had  an  English  minine 

crxr^s^^-  '-^  --  -  «^^^ 

wait  t  w^t?'""^ "  *'  ^"^  ^'^  "^^^«  ^-^^ 

Jne^'Brt"^'  '  """''.*"  ^'^  "^^  «^^  ^^  ^  thing 
going.     But,  you  see.  it  was  Ml  so  new  to  me     I 

hadnt  got  deep  enough  into  the  work  to  organize  it 
t^  way  I  wanted  to.  There  were  a  lot  of  Httte  Z« 
that  couldn't  be  organized."  ^ 

"Why  not?' 

^I!^,^'J^.  "^  ^^***"'  ^o*-  ^stance,  had  Lock- 

^^^had  to  be  sent  on  to  whatever  point  he  sported 
"WellP* 

tiz2^rtn^t^'?"^*^^^^^«ffi«hedep«- 

letters,  rcKlirect  telegrams,  see  that  everything  went 

side«  fhlf  fc  .        .    ^^  °^  importance,  and  be^ 

ing  after  it,  of  course,  was  simple  enough,  but—" 


THE  THUMB-TAP  CLUE 


391 


But  I 


"Wait!"  I  interrupted.  "Has  this  mail  anything  to 
do  with  our  blank  wall?" 

He  looked  about  at  me  as  though  he  had  sten  me 
for  the  first  time,  as  though  all  that  while  he  had  been 
merely  thinking  aloud. 

"Why  that  is  the  blank  wall,"  he  cried. 

"Howr  I  demanded. 

"Four  weeks  ago  Lodcwood  came  back  from  the 
West  On  the  same  day  a  rq^tered  letter  came  to 
the  office  for  young  Carlton.  That  letter  held  twelve 
Bank  of  England  notes  for  a  hundred  pounds  each. 
About  six  thousand  dollars  altogether." 

"Where  did  it  come  from?" 

"From  Montreal,  from  Carlton's  own  father.  He 
wanted  the  money  forwarded  to  his  son.  The  older 
man  was  on  his  way  back  to  England.  The  younger 
Carlton  was  looking  up  certain  lands  his  father  wanted 
to  invest  in.  Young  Carlton's  movements  were  rather 
uncertain,  so  his  father  made  sure  by  sending  the  letter 
to  our  office — ^to  Lockwood's  office." 

"And  3rou  were  still  acting  as  paste  restante  for  the 
Carlton  out  in  British  Cdumbia?" 

"Yes,  we'd  been  receiving  and  forwarding  his  mail." 

"And?" 

"We  also  received  this  registered  letter  from  Mon- 
treal.   That's  where  the  blank  wall  comes  in." 

"How?" 

"We've  no  reccwd  of  that  letter  ever  gmng  out  of 
our  dfice." 

He  lodced  at  me  as  though  he  esqiected  me  to  be 
more  electrified  than  I  found  it  possiUe  to  be. 


m 


ill 


391    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

"Lost,  stolen,  or  strayed?"  I  asked. 

"That's  what  I'd  give  my  eye-teeth  to  know,"  he 
solemnly  asserted. 

"But  where  do  you  came  in?" 

His  answer  was  given  without  the  slightest  shade 
of  emotion. 
.  "I  signed  for  the  letter." 

"Then  you  remember  that  much?" 

"No,  I  don't  remember  it.  But  when  they  began  to 
investigate  through  the  post-office,  I  knew  my  own 
signature  when  I  saw  it." 

"With  no  chance  of  mistake,  or  forgery?" 

"It  was  my  own  signature." 

**And  you  don't  even  remember  getting  the  letter?" 

"I've  gone  back  over  that  day  with  draghooks.  I've 
thought  over  it  all  night  at  a  stretch,  but  I  can't  get 
one  clear  idea  of  what  I  did." 

The  force  of  the  sittiation  was  at  last  coming  home 
to  me. 

"And  they're  holding  you  responsible  for  the  dis- 
appearance of  that  letter?" 

"Good  God,  I'm  holding  myself  responsible  for  it! 
It's  been  hanging  over  me  for  nearly  a  month.  And 
I  can't  stand  much  more  of  it!" 

"Then  let's  go  back  to  possibilities.  Have  you  ever 
checked  them  over?" 

"I've  gone  over  *em  like  a  scrutineer  over  a  voter's 
list.  I've  tested  'em  all,  one  by  one;  but  they  all  end 
up  at  the  blaidc  wall." 

"Well,  before  we  go  back  to  these  possibilities  again, 
how  about  Ae  personal  eqtaticm?   Have  you  any  fed- 


dH 


THE  THUMB-TAP  CXUE 


293 


ain. 


ing,  any  emotional  bias,  any  one  indination  rfwit  the 
thing,  no  matter  how  ridiculous  it  may  seem?" 
He  closed  his  eyes,  and  appeared  to  be  deep  in 

"I've  always  felt  one  thing,"  he  confessed,  I  ve  al- 
ways felt— mind  you,  I  only  say  felt— that  when  I 
signed  for  that  Carlton  letter,  I  carried  it  into  Lock- 
wood's  own  room  with  his  own  persond  mail,  and 
either  gave  it  to  him  or  left  it  on  his  desk." 

"What  makes  you  feel  that?" 

"In  the  first  place,  I  must  have  known  he'd  seen 
Carlton  recently,  and  had  a  clearer  idea  of  his  address 
at  the  time,  thf.a  I  had.  In  the  second  place,  bemg 
registered,  it  must  have  impressed  me  as  being  com- 
paratively important" 

"And  Lockwood  himself?" 

"He  says  I'm  mistaken.  He  holds  I  never  gave  him 
the  letter,  or  he  would  have  remembered  it" 

"And  circumstances  seem  to  back  him  up  in  this?" 

"Everything  backs  him  up,"  was  the  answer. 

"Then  let's  go  back  to  the  possibilities.  How  about 
theft?  Are  you  sure  every  one  m  the  office  was  re- 
liable?" 

"Every  one  but  me!"  was  his  bitter  retort 

"Then  how  about  its  being  actually  lost  inside  Aose 

four  walls?" 

"That's  scarcely  possible.  I've  gone  through  every 
nook  and  drawer  and  file.  I've  gone  over  the  place 
with  a  fine-tooth  comb,  time  and  time  again.  FveevCT 
gone  over  wy  own  flat,  eveiy  pocket  and  every  comer 
of  every  room." 


\l 


M  f 


294    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

"Then  you  have  a  home?"  I  asked. 

Again  there  was  the  telltale  neurasthenic  delay  be- 
fore his  answer  came. 

"I  was  married  the  same  week  the  letter  was  lost," 
was  his  response. 

"And  your  wife  hasn't  been  able  to  help  you  re- 
member?" 

"She  didn't  know  of  it  until  a  week  ago.  Then  she 
saw  I  couldn't  sleep,  and  kept  forgetting  things,  trifling 
little  things  that  showed  I  wasn't  coordinating  proper- 
ly—such as  letting  a  lettt/  go  out  unsigned  or  getting 
muddled  on  the  safe  combination  or  not  remembering 
whether  I'd  eaten  or  not.  She  said  she  thought  I  was 
in  for  typhoid  or  something  like  that  She  went  right 
down  to  Lockwood  and  practically  accused  him  of 
making  me  overwork.  Lockwood  had  to  tell  her  what 
had  happened.  I  suppose  it  was  the  way  it  was  thrown 
at  her,  all  in  a  heap!  She  went  home  to  her  own 
people  that  afternoon,  without  seeing  me.  1  thought  it 
over,  and  decided  there  was  no  use  doing  anything 
until — until  the  mess  was  cleared  up  some  way  or 
other." 

I  did  not  speak  for  several  seconds.  The  case 
was  not  as  simple  as  it  had  seemed. 

"And  Lockwood,  how  does  he  feel  about  it?'  I 
finally  asked. 

"The  way  any  man'd  feeH"  The  acidulated  smile 
that  wrinkled  his  face  was  signtfieam.  "He's  having 
me  shadowed  r 

"But  he  does  nothing  r 

"He  keeps  giving  me  tnore  time." 


m. 


THE  THUMB-TAP  CLUE 


295 


"Well,  doesn't  Aat  imply  he  stUl  somehow  bcUevt. 

""  '^^  doesn't  beUeve  in  me."  was  Ae  dow  wspwise. 
"Then  why  doesn't  he  do  something?   Whydoesnt 

^There  was  a  moment's  silence.    "Because  he  prom- 
ised  his  daughter  to  give  me  another  wwk." 

Still  again  I  experienced  that  odd  tightening  of  the 
nerves    And  I  had  to  take  a  grip  on  myself,  before  I 

could  continue.  „     .  ^ .   . 

"You  mean  Mary  Lockwood  personally  mterested 

herself  hi  your  case?" 

"Yes.** 

That  would  be  like  Mary  Lodcwood.  I  remembcwi 
She  would  always  want  to  be  something  more  than 

just;  she  would  want  to  be  «»^«^^^^?:  ****"•  J 
™  the  only  one  gmlty  of  an  off ense  which  could  not 

be  overlooked!  . 

"But  why  Mary  Lockwood?"  I  asked,  for  somethmg 

to  say.  ^      ,  «.    «^  »• 

"She  seemed  to  think  I  ought  to  be  given  a  diance. 
Criswell  spoke  with  Ustless  heaviness,  as  though  Mary 
Lockwood's  pity,  as  though  any  one's  pity,  were  a 
thing  of  repugnance  to  him.  _^     w- 

"A  matter  of  thumbs  down,"  I  murmured.  He 
looked  at  me  blankly;  the  idiom  had  not  reached  his 
inteUigence.    I  crossed  to  the  table  and  poured  him 

out  another  glass  of  Bristol  Mittc  

''You  say  you  did  things  to  show  you  ^"^'^ 
coorditt^g  prt^ly  "  I  ^««*  «»•  "Now,  goNr  bade 
to  possttriUties,  mii^tn't  there  hairi  beeft  a  toudi  of 


■!■ 


i 

: 


296    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

aphasia?  Mightn't  you  have  done  sotjething  with  that 
letter  and  had  no  memory  of  what  it  was?" 

"It's  not  aphasia— it  never  was  that,"  calmly  retorted 
the  unhappy-eyed  yoimg  man.  'You  couldn't  dignify 
it  with  a  name  like  that  And  it  never  amounted  to 
anything  serious.  I  carried  on  all  my  office  work  with- 
out a  hitch,  without  one  mistake.  But,  as  I  told  you 
before,  I  was  working  tmder  pressure,  and  I  hadn't 
been  sleeping  well.  I  did  the  bigger  things  without  a 
mistake,  but  I  often  found  I  was  doing  them  auto- 
matically." 

"Then  let's  go  back  once  more  to  those  possibilities. 
Could  the  letter  have  been  misdirected,  absent-mind- 
edly? Could  it  have  gone  to  one  of  Carlton's  ad- 
dresses?" 

"Every  address  has  been  canvassed.  The  thing's 
been  verified  through  the  local  post-office,  and  through 
the  Montreal  office.  That  port  of  it's  as  clear  as  day- 
light. A  letter  came  to  this  ofike  of  Lodcwood's  ad- 
dressed to  Carlton.  It  held  six  thousand  dollars  in 
cash.  I  received  it  and  signed  for  it  The  man  to 
whom  it  was  addressed  never  received  it  Neither 
the  money  nor  the  letter  was  ever  seen  again.  And 
the  last  record  of  it  ends  with  me.  Is  it  any  wonder 
they've  got  that  gum-shoe  man  trailing  me  about  every 
move  I  make?" 

"Wait,"  I  cried,  still  conjectaring  along  the  field 
of  possibilities.  "Why  mightn't  that  letter  have  come 
in  a  second  envelope  whidi  you  remo^'ed  after  its 
receipt?  Why  mightn't  it  have  come  addressed  to 
Lockwood  or  the  firm?" 


■■i 


THE  THUMB-TAP  CLUE 


397 


'The  post-office  records  show  differently.  It  cwne  to 
Carlton.  I  signed  for  it  as  an  agent  of  Carlton  s.  Oh, 
there's  no  use  going  over  aU  that  old  ground.  Ivc 
been  over  H  until  I  thought  I  was  going  crazy,  lye 
raked  and  dug  through  it,  these  past  three  weeks,, 
and  nothing's  come  of  it  Nothing  can  come  of  it,  un- 
til Lodcwood  gets  tired  of  waitmg  for  me  to  prove 
what  I  con'*  prove!"  *^**w 

"But,  out  of  all  the  affair  as  it  happened,  out  of  that 
whole  day  when  the  letter  came,  isn't  there  one  shred 
or  tatter  of  memory  on  which  you  can  try  to  tong 
something?     Isn't  there  one  thing,  no  matter  how 

small  or  how  misty,  from  which  y<?»  f"^«?\  . - 

"Not  one  rational  thingl  I've  tned  to  build  a  bridge 
out  into  that  empty  space-that  dayj^ways  se«ns  hke 
empty  space  to  me-I've  tried  to  buUd  it  out  hke  a 
cantilever,  but  I  can't  bolt  two  ideas  to^er.  I  ve 
tried  to  picture  it;  I've  tried  to  visualize  it;  I  ve  tri<^ 
to  imagine  it  as  I  must  have  lived  it.    Butdllveleft 

is  the  fool  idea  of  a  man  hitting  his  thumb.       ^ 
"What  do  you  mean  by  that  r  I  demanded,  sitting  up 

"^"I  ki«»  seeing  somebody,  somebody  sitting  in  front 
of  me,  holding  a  letter  in  his  right  hand  and  teppmg 
the  thumb  of  his  left  hand  with  it  as  he  talked. 
"But  who  is  it?   Or  who  WM  it?" 
"I've  tried  to  imagme  it  was  Lodcwood." 
"Why,  you've  something  right  there!"  I  exultantly 
cried  out    "Thafs  valuable.    It's  something  defoute, 
something  concrete,  something  personal    Let's  begm 

on  that" 


298    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


"It's  no  use,"  remarked  my  con^paidoii.  His  yoictt 
as  he  spc^e,  was  one  of  weary  unconcern.  "I  thouglit 
the  way  you  do,  at  first  I  felt  sure  it  would  lead  to 
somethirsf.  I  kept  watching  Lockwood,  trying  to  catch 
him  at  the  tridc.'* 

"And?"  I  prompted. 

"I  had  no  chance  of  making  sure.  So  I  went  up 
to  his  home,  and  asked  for  Miss  Lockwood  herself. 
I  tried  to  explain  how  much  the  whole  thing  meant 
to  me.  I  asked  her  if  she's  ever  noticed  her  father  in 
the  act  of  tapping  his  thumbs." 

"And  had  she?" 

"She  was  very  patient  She  thought  it  over,  and 
tried  to  remember,  but  she  decided  that  I  was  mistaken. 
His  own  daughter,  she  explained,  would  have  noticed 
any  such  mannerism  as  that.  In  fact,  she  ventured  to 
mention  the  matter  to  her  father.  And  when  John 
Lockwood  found  I'd  been  up  to  his  house,  that  way, 
he — ^well,  he  rather  lost  his  temper  about  it  alL  He 
accused  me  of  trying  to  play  on  his  daughter's  sym- 
pathy, of  trying  to  hide  behind  a  petticoat.  Miss  Lock- 
wood  herself  came  and  saw  me  again,  though,  and  was 
fine  enough  to  say  that  she  still  believed  in  me,  that  she 
still  had  faith  in  me.  She  said  I  could  always  count 
on  her  hel^.  But  everydiing  she  did  only  seemed  to 
push  me  further  bade  into  the  dark,  the  dark  that's 
worse  than  hdl  to  me!" 

He  leaned  far  forward  in  the  diair,  covering  his 
face  with  his  tinsteady  hands.  I  had  no  help  to  give 
fiim. 

But  as  I  sat  diere  staring  at  him  I  b^;an  to  see  what 


Jkta 


THE  THUMB-TAP  CLUE 


399 


he  had  gone  throu^  Yet  more  distnrtteg  tf«n  the 
consciousness  of  this  was  the  thought  o*]****  ^.^ 
eventuaUy  lead  to.  of  what  it  was  already  todingto, 
in  that  broken  wredc  of  a  walking  g!K)St.  in  tiiat  terror 

hounded  neurasthenic  who  had  found  »  J^I*  «^ 
memory  and  had  kept  exploring  it,  feehng  abort  ft 
as  one's  tongue-tip  keeps  fathoming  the  cave  of  a  lort 

"I  went  to  a  doctor,  after  she  left  me,"  the  man  te 
the  chair  was  saying  through  hU  gaunt  fingers  as  Aelr 
tips  pressed  against  his  eye  sockets.  "He  told  me  I 
had  to  sleep.  He  gave  me  trional  and  bromides  ama 
thJags.  but  I  didn't  seem  able  to  assimilate  than.  Then 
hetolc?  me  it  was  aU  in  my  own  mind,  that  I  only  had 
to  let  myself  relax  He  told  me  to  lie  with  my  hands 
down  at  my  sides,  and  sigh,  to  sigh  just  once.  I  by 
all  night  as  though  I  was  in  a  coffin  warhng  f  or  Aat 
sigh.'  fighting  for  it,  praying  for  it    But  it  didnt 

^^f  course  It  didn't,"  I  told  him,  for  I  knew  Ae 
feeling.  *1t  never  does,  that  way.  You  ought  to 
have  taken  a  couple  of  weeks  in  the  Maine  woods,  or 
tried  fishing  up  in  Tcmagami,  or  gone  off  pounding  a 
golf  ball  fifteen  miles  a  day." 

Then  I  stopped  and  looked  at  him,  for  tome  sub- 
sidiary part  of  my  brain  must  have  been  working  even 

while  I  was  talking.  .     ,.     «, 

«By  heaven.  I  beUeve  that  girl  was  mistaken  r 
•'Mistaken?"  he  asked.  ^^ 

'•Yes,  I  don't  believe  any  girl  really  knows  li» 

father's  little  tricks,    rd  like  to  wager  Aat  LodcKrood 


'I 


l|! 


300    THE  MAN  WHO  CX)ULDNT  SLEEP 

Aor  the  habit  of  tappini^  his  thoinb  nail,  lometiflMf,  with 
what  he  may  be  holding  in  his  other  handT 

My  dispirited  friend  looked  up  at  me,  a  *ittle  dis- 
turbed by  the  vehemence  of  my  outburst 

"But  what's  that  to  me  now?  What  good  does  it 
do  me,  even  though  he  does  tap  his  thumb?" 

"Can't  you  see  that  this  is  exploration  work,  like 
digging  up  a  lost  dty  ?  Can't  you  see  that  we've  got 
to  get  down  to  at  least  one  stone,  and  follow  where 
that  first  sign  leads?" 

I  did  my  best  to  infect  him  with  some  trace  of  my 
sudden  enthusiasm.  I  wanted  to  emotionalize  him  out 
of  that  dead  flat  monotone  of  indifference.  I  jumped 
to  my  feet  and  brought  a  dedamative  hand  down  on 
Jie  comer  of  my  library  taUe. 

"I  tell  you  it  does  you  a  k>t  of  good.  It's  your  life- 
buoy. It's  the  thing  that's  got  to  keep  you  afloat  until 
your  feet  are  on  solid  ground  again." 

"I  tried  to  fed  that  way  about  it  once,"  was  his 
listless  response.  "But  it  doesn't  lead  to  anything.  It 
only  makes  me  decide  I  dreamed  the  whole  thing." 

I  stared  down  at  him  as  he  leaned  wearily  back  m 
the  heavy  chair. 

"Look  here,"  I  said.  "I  know  you're  pretty  well 
done  up.  I  know  you're  side  and  tired  of  the  whole 
hopeless  Mtuation,  that  you've  given  up  trying  to 
thhik  about  it  But  I  want  you  to  act  this  thing  out  for 
me  to-night  I  want  to  try  to  dramatize  that  situation 
down  in  Lockwood's  office  when  you  signed  for  the 
Carlton  *?tter.  I  want  you  to  do  everydiing  you  can 
to  visualize  that  nKMnent    I  want  you  to  get  that 


THE  THUMB-TAP  CLUE 


y>t 


cantilever  bridge  etixk  out  •croet  the  giAt,  acroee  the 
gulf  from  each  side,  trndl  you  touch  the  middle  and 
give  m  a  chance  to  bolt  'em  t      'ler/' 

I  pushed  back  the  chairs,  cleared  the  space  on  the 
itading-table»  swung  the  youth  about  so  tet  he  faced 
this  table,  and  then  took  one  of  my  own  letters  from 
the  heavy  brass  stand  beside  him.  My  one  object 
now  was  to  make  him  "go  Bersefk." 

"This  is  your  room,"  I  told  him.  "And  this  is  your 
desk.  Remember,  you're  in  your  office,  hard  at  work. 
Be  so  good,  please,  as  to  keep  busy." 

I  crossed  tiie  room  to  the  door  as  I  spoke,  btent  on 
myinqtersonatkm.  But  I  could  hear  him  as  he  buighed 
his  indulgent  and  mirthless  laugh. 

"Now,  I'm  bringing  you  this  mail  matter.  And 
here  I  have  a  registered  letter  addressed  to  one  Carl- 
ton. You  see  it,  there?  This  letter?  It's  for  Carlton, 
remember.  I  want  you  to  take  it  Ai?^  sign  for  it, 
here  Yes,  write  down  your  name— actually  write 
it.  Now  take  the  letter.  And  now  think,  man,  Hmk. 
What  do  you  do  after  that?  What  is  the  next  thing? 
What  do  you  feel  is  the  right  thing  ?   The  only  thing?" 

He  looked  up  at  me,  wonderingly.  Then  he  looked 
about  the  room.  Then  he  slowly  shock  his  head  from 
side  to  skle.  I  had  not  succeeded  in  communicating 
to  him  any  jot  of  my  own  ment^  energy. 

"I  cant  do  it,"  he  said,  "I  can't  remember.  It 
doem't  seem  to  st^^est  a  tiling." 

"But  think,  roan,  think!"  I  cried  out  at  him.  "Use 
your  hm^^tkm!  Get  into  the  part!  Act  itt  The 
thing's  there  in  your  head,  I  tell  you.    If  s  dnt  up 


. 


\ 


000   THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

•omewfaMft  tlMT^  ooljr  yoo  havoi't  Ut  tlM  riglil  com- 
bination to  throw  the  door  opca  Yoacan'tdoatiiinji 
in  this  lile^  you've  never  Uved  an  active  moment  of  this 
life,  without  a  record  of  it  hang  left  there.  It  may 
be  bisricd,  it  may  be  buried  so  deep  you'll  die  without 
digging  it  ttpk  but  if  •  there,  I  tell  you,  if  you  only  go 

after  it!" 

"If  I  wat  onfy  lore  it  waa  there,"  hesitated  the 
man  at  the  table.  "If  I  only  knew  just  what  direction 
to  got  But  this  doesn't  mean  anything;  it  doesn't 
gtt  me  anywhere." 

"You'ie  not  in  the  part,"  I  cried,  with  what  was  al- 
most an  ecstasy  of  impatience.  "What  you've  got  to 
do  is  liM!  over  that  day.  If  you  can't  do  that  you've 
got  to  live  over  at  least  one  part  of  it  No;  don't  think 
this  is  all  foolishness.  It's  only  going  back  to  a  very 
oM  kw  of  association.  I'm  only  trying  to  do  something 
to  bring  up  sight,  touch,  sound.  We  both  know  those 
are  things  that  act  quickest  in  reviving  memory. 
Can't  you  see— out  of  similar  conditions  I  want  to 
catch  at  something  that  win  suggest  the  similar  action! 
There's  no  need  telling  you  that  my  mind  and  your 
mind  each  has  a  permanent  disposition  to  do  again 
what  it  has  once  done  under  the  same  drcumstances. 
.  There's  no  use  ddving  imo  psydiok}gy.  It's  aU  such 
ordinary  eveiy-day  oonuiKm  sense." 

He  sat  looking  at  me  a  littk  bfamkiy  as  I  pounded 
tills  out  at  him.  His  paffid  face,  twitdimg  in  the  light 
from  ^e  fire,  was  ^idious,  but  only  pasnvciy  sa  The 
infection  of  my  rhapsodic  effort  had  not  reached  hkn. 
I  ioDcw  that,  even  before  he  spcwe; 


Jtm 


<4 


THE  THUMB-TAP  CLUE  303 

•1  am  fee  what  you're  tlmteg  •*.**  h«  «»fr^ 
how  hard  I  think,  I  can't  get  bcyona 


But  no  matter 


And 


thcMankwalL   I'm  tUIl  in  thU  library  of  youw. 

this  ii  itiU  a  table  and  noAing  like  Lockwood  •  office 

desk."  _.^v» 

"And  that  maket  it  seem  rather  iilly  to  your 
"Ye»,  it  does  ■eem  rifly/'  he  acknowledged. 
Then  a  Hidden  idea  fdl  like  a  hailrtone  out  of  the 

heavens  themsdve^  .    .  ^    «,  l^        i.« 

•1  know  whafi  the  matter,"  I  cried.   Tknowwhy 

you're  not  acting  out  the  part  It's  becauM  yonre 
not  on  the  right  stage.  You  know  if  s  an  empty  re- 
hearsal-you  haven't  been  able  to  let  yourself  goT 

*Tm  sorry,"  he  said,  with  the  contrition  of  a  child, 
andwiti  his  repeated  hand-gesture  of  helplessness. 

I  swung  about  on  hfan,  scarcely  hearing  Ae  words  he 

was  uttering.  -,    ^  r  j^  -^ 

"We've  got  to  get  into  that  office,"  I  ctedared. 

"We've  got  to  get  into  Lockwood's  own  office." 

He  shook  his  head,  wiAout  kxjking  up  at  me. 

•Tve  been  over  that  office,  every  nock  and  cranny 
of  itr  he  reiterated.  ,      .  ^ 

"But  what  I  want  to  know  is,  aw  we  get  into  it  r 

"At  this  time  of  mght?"  he  asked,  apparently  a 
little  frightened  at  Ac  mere  idea  of  it 

"Yes,  now,"  I  decUtfed. 

"I'd  rather  not,"  fee  fina%  averred. 

"But  you  still  carry  tfrosfe  officse-keys,  dont  you?"  I 

aslnd. 
"Yes;  !  ^B  have  my  keys.    But  it  wonl^t  fcxjk 

right,  the  wiiy  tilings  are.    It  would  be  ctoly  too  easy 


t  . 


304    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

'for  tti^m  to  misinterpret  a  midnight  visit  of  mine  to 
those  offices.  And  they're  watching  me,  every  move 
I  make." 

"Then  let  them  know  you're  going  to  make  the 
move,"  I  maintained.  "And  then  we'll  slip  down  in 
my  car,  with  no  chance  of  being  followed." 

He  seemed  to  be  turning  the  matter  over  in  his  mind. 
Then  he  looked  up,  as  though  a  suddoi  light  had  clari- 
fied the  whole  situation. 

"You  know  Mary  Lockwood,  don't  you?"  he  de- 
manded. 

"Y-yes,"  I  hesitatingly  admitted. 

"Then  wouldn't  it  be  easier  for  you  to  call  her  up  on 
the  telephone  and  explain  just  what  you  propose  do- 
ing?" 

It  was  nxy  turn  to  sit  in  a  brown  study.  It  would 
be  no  easy  matter,  I  remembered,  to  make  clear  to  this 
stranger  my  reasons  for  not  caring  to  converse  with 
Mary  Lockwood.  I  also  remembered  that  the  situa- 
tion ccmfronting  me  was  something  which  should 
transcend  mere  personal  issues.  And  I  was  in  a  quan- 
dary, until  I  thought  of  the  ever-dependable  Benson. 

"I'll  have  my  man  call  up  Lodcwood's  house,"  I 
explained  as  I  rose  to  n^  feet,  "and  announce  that  we're 
making  an  informal  visit  to  those  of&ces.'* 

"But  whaf  s  that  visit  for?" 

"For  the  purpose  of  finding  out  if  Jchn  Lodcwood 
really  taps  his  Uiumbs  or  not!" 

The  gray-faced  youtii  stared  at  me. 

"But  what  good  will  that  do?"  he  demanded. 

"Why,  it'll  give  us  the  right  stage-setting,  the  right 


THE  THUMB-TAP  CLUE 


30s 


'props*— something  to  reach  out  and  grope  along.  It'll 
mean  the  same  to  j  our  imagination  as  a  brick  wall  to 
a  bit  of  ivy.*'  And  I  stopped  and  turned  to  give  ray 
instructions  to  Benson. 

"Oh,  it's  no  earthly  use!"  repeatei!  he  man  who 
couldn't  remember,  in  his  flat  and  atnic  voice,  B.-t  in- 
stead of  answering  or  argumg  with  him  I  put  h^  hat 
in  his  hand  and  held  the  portiere,  \;attiiig  for  ^lim  to 

pass  through. 

I  have  often  thought  that  if  the  decorous  and  some- 
what ponderous  figure  of  Mr.  John  Lockwood  had  m- 
vaded  his  own  offices  on  that  particular  night,  he  would 
have  been  persuaded  of  the  fact  that  he  was  confront- 
ing two  madmen. 

For,  once  we  had  gained  access  to  those  offices  and 
locked  the  door  behind  us,  I  began  over  again  what  I 
had  so  inadequately  attempted  in  ray  own  library. 

During  the  earlier  part  of  my  effort  to  Bclasroize  a 
slumbering  mental  idea  into  some  approximation  to 
life,  I  tried  to  remember  my  surroundings  and  the  fact 
that  the  hour  was  the  unseemly  one  of  ahnost  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  But  as  I  seated  Criswell  at 
his  own  office  desk  and  did  my  utmost  to  galvanize 
his  tired  brain  into  some  semblance  of  the  role  I  had 
laid  out  for  it,  I  think  he  rather  lost  track  of  time  and 
place.  At  the  end  of  ten  minutes  my  face  was  moist 
with  sweat,  and  a  wave  of  utter  exhaustion  swept 
through  me  as  I  saw  that,  after  all  my  struggle,  noth- 
ing in  that  minutely  enacted  little  drama  had  struck 
a  responsive  chord  in  other  hb  imagination  or  his 
memory. 


. 


3o6    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

"You  don't  get  anything?"  I  asked  as  I  dropped  back 
into  a  chair  at  the  end  of  my  pantomime.  No  stage- 
manager,  trying  to  project  his  personaUty  into  an  un- 
responding  actor,  could  have  struggled  more  passion- 
ately, more  persuasively,  more  solicitously.  But  it 
had  been  finiitless. 

"No,  I  can't  get  anything!"  said  the  white-faced 
CriswelL  And  I  could  see  that  he  had  honesUy  tried, 
that  he  had  strained  his  very  soul,  striving  to  reach  up 
to  the  light  that  was  denied  him.  But  the  matter  was 
not  one  of  mere  volition.  It  was  beyond  his  power. 
It  depended  on  something  external,  on  something  as 
much  outside  his  conscious  control  as  though  it  were 
an  angel  that  must  come  and  touch  him  on  the  brow. 
It  was  simply  that  the  door  of  Memory  remained  locked 
and  barred.  We  had  not  hit  upon  the  right  combina- 
tion.   But  I  did  not  give  up. 

"Now  we're  going  in  to  try  Lockwood's  own  office," 
I  told  him,  with  a  peremptoriness  which  made  him  draw 
away  from  me. 

"I— I  don't  think  I  can  go  through  it  again,"  he 
faltered.  And  I  could  see  the  lines  of  mental  fatigue 
deepen  on  his  ashen  face. 

Yet  I  proffered  him  no  sympathy;  I  allowed  him  no 
escape  from  those  four  imprisoning  walls.  I  had  al- 
ready stirred  the  poo!  too  deeply.  I  knew  that  a  re- 
lapse mto  the  old  impassive  hopelessness  would  now 
be  doubly  perilous. 

I  looked  about  the  room.  Three  sides  of  it  were 
hned  with  book-shelves  and  every  shelf  was  fiUed  with 
hundreds  of  books,  thousands  of  them  altogether  from 


.iJi 


THE  THUMB-TAP  CXUE 


307 


dull  and  uninteresting-looking  treatises  on  railway 
building  and  mining  engineering  to  even  more  dull- 
looking  consular  reports  and  text-books  on  matters  of 
finance.  The  fourth  side  of  the  room  held  two  win- 
dows. Between  these  windows,  some  six  feet  from 
the  wall,  stood  Lockwood's  rosewood  desk.  It  was  a 
hands  me  dedc,  heavily  carved,  yet  like  the  rest  of  the 
furniture,  the  acme  of  simplicity.  -listory,  I  knew, 
had  been  made  over  tiiat  oblong  of  rosewood.  It  had 
been  and  would  again  be  an  arena  of  Napoleonic  con- 
tention. Yet  it  stood  before  me  as  bare  and  bald  as 
a  prize  fighter's  platform. 

I  sat  down  in  the  carved  swivel  chair  beside  this 
desk,  drew  my  chair  closer  to  the  rosewood,  and  looked 
up  at  Criswell,  who,  I  believe,  would  have  turned  and 
bolted,  had  he  been  given  the  chance.  He  was,  I  fancy, 
even  beginning  to  have  sus^Mcions  as  to  my  sanity. 
But  in  that  I  saw  no  objection.  It  was,  I  felt,  rather 
an  advantage.  It  would  serve  to  key  his  nerves  up 
to  a  still  higher  pitch— for  I  still  hoped  against  hope 
that  I  might  lash  him  into  some  form  of  mental  calen- 
ture which  would  drive  him  into  taking  the  high  jump, 
which  would  in  some  way  make  him  dear  the  Wind 

wall. 

"Now,  I'm  Lockwood,  remember,"  I  cried,  fixing 
my  eye  on  him,  "and  you're  Criswell,  my  private  sec- 
retary.   Have  you  got  that  plain?" 

He  did  not  answer  me.  He  was,  apparently,  looking 
weakly  about  for  a  place  to  sit  down. 

"Have  you  got  that  plain  ?"  I  repeated,  this  time  b  a 
voice  that  was  almost  thunderous. 


308    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT.  SLEEP 

"Yes,"  he  finally  said.    "I  understand." 

"Then  go  back  into  jour  room  there.  From  tliat 
room  I  want  you  to  bring  me  a  letter.  Not  any  old 
letter,  but  one  particular  letter.  I  want  you  to  bring 
me  the  Carlton  registered  letter  which  you  signed  for. 
I  want  you  to  see  it,  and  feel  it,  and  bring  it  here." 

I  threw  all  the  authority  of  my  being  into  that  com- 
mand. I  had  to  justify  both  my  course  and  niy  intelli- 
gence. I  had  to  get  my  man  over  the  high  jump,  or 
crawl  away  humiliated  and  defeated. 

I  stared  at  the  man,  for  he  was  not  moving.  I  tried 
to  cow  him  into  obedience  by  the  very  anger  of  my 
look.    But  it  didn't  seem  to  succeed. 

"Don't  you  understand,"  I  cried.  "I  want  you  to 
bring  that  registered  letter  in  to  me,  here,  nowl" 

He  looked  at  me  a  litUe  blankly.  Then  he  passed 
his  hand  over  his  moist  forehead. 

"But  we  tried  that  before,"  he  falteringly  com- 
plained. "We  tried  that,  and  it  wouldn't  work.  I 
brought  the  letter  in  the  first  time,  and  you  weren't 

here." 

I  sat  up  as  though  I  had  been  shot  I  could  fed  a 
tingle  of  something  go  up  and  down  my  backbone. 
My  God,  I  thought,  the  man's  actually  stumbling  on 
something.     The  darkness  was  delivering  itself  of 

an  idea. 
"Yes,  we  tried  that  before,"  I  wheedled.    "And 

what  happened?" 

"You  weren't  here,"  he  repeated,  in  tones  of  sudi 
languid  detachment  that  one  might  have  thought  of 
him  as  under  Ae  influence  of  a  hypnotist. 


THE  THUMB-TAP  CXUE 


309 


"But  Tm  here  now,  so  bring  vat  the  letter!" 

I  tried  to  speak  quietly,  bat  I  noticed  that  my  voice 
shook  with  suppressed  excitement  Whether  or  not 
the  contagion  of  my  hysteria  went  out  to  him  I  can 
not  say.  But  he  suddenly  walked  out  of  the  room,  with 
the  utmost  solemnity. 

The  moment  I  was  alone  I  did  a  thing  that  was  both 
ridiculous  and  audacious.  Jerking  open  Lockwood's 
private  drawer,  I  caught  up  a  perf ecto  from  a  cigar- 
box  I  found  there.  This  perfecto  I  impertinently  and 
promptly  lighted,  puffing  its  aroma  about,  for  it  had 
suddenly  come  home  to  me  how  powerful  an  aid  to 
memory  certain  odors  may  be,  how,  for  instance,  the 
mere  smell  of  a  Noah's  Ark  will  carry  a  man  forty 
years  bade  to  a  childhood  Christmas. 

I  sat  there  busily  and  abstractedly  smokmg  as  Cris- 
well  came  imo  the  room  and  quietly  stepped  up  to  my 
desk.  In  his  hand  he  carried  a  letter.  He  was  solemn 
enough  about  it,  only  his  eyes,  I  noticed,  were  as  empty 
as  though  he  were  giving  an  exhibition  of  sleei>-walk- 
ing.  He  reminded  me  of  a  hungry  actor  trying  to  look 
hzppy  over  a  papier-mSchi  turkey. 

"Here's  a  letter  for  Carlton,  sir,"  he  said  to  me. 
"Had  I  better  send  it  on,  or  will  you  look  after  it?" 

I  pretended  to  be  jM-eoccupied.  Lockwood,  I  felt, 
would  have  been  that  way,  if  the  scene  had  indeed 
ever  occurred.  Lodcwood's  own  mind  must  have  been 
busy,  othenvise  he  would  have  carried  away  soait 
definite  memory  of  what  had  happened. 

I  looked  up,  quickly  and  irrita^y.  I  took  tiie  let- 
ter from  CrisweU's  hand,  glanced  at  it,  and  began 


310    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  3LEEP 

absently  tapping  my  kf  t  thumb-tip  with  it  « I  peered 

at  the  secretarial  figure  before  me.  _..,.^, 

Criswell's  face  went  Wank  as  he  saw  the  «iove«e«t 

It  was  now  not  even  somnambuUstic  m  ^^^^J^ 
maddened  me  to  think  he  was  going  to  fail  me  at  such 

don't  you  go  on?"  ^    , .  • 

He  was  silent,  lookmg  ahead  of  ^ 

«I-/  see  bluer  he  finally  said,  as  though  to  hunself . 
His  face  was  clammy  with  sweat 

"What  sort  of  blue?"  I  prompted.  "Blue  ctoth? 
Blue  sky?   Blue  ink?   Blwwhatr  .^^.. 

"iri bluer  he  repeated.  '^^^^^^'^.'^'"^^ 
And  aU  his  soul  seemed  writhing  and  twistmg  m  some 

terrible  travail  of  mental  childbirth. 

«I  see  blue.  And  you're  making  it  white.  Youre 
covering  it  up.  You're  turning  oyer  white-whiter 
white!    Oh,  what  in  God's  name  18  itr 

My  spine  was  agam  tingUng  with  a  Aousand  eke. 

trifleeSes  as  I  watched  him.    He  turned  to  me  with 

a  gesture  of  piteous  appeal  ,.  i..  «^ 

^What  was  it?"  he  implored.    "Can't  you  help  me 

«retit-«et  it  before  it  goesl   What  was  it?" 

*^«  t^Mue.  blue  and  white."  I  told  him.  and  « 
I  said  it  I  realized  what  madhouse  jargon  It  would  have 

^iJ^t^SJ^r^  and  let  his  head  fall  for^d 

onhishands.    He  did  not  speak  for  sev^l^jis. 
"And  there  are  two  hills  covered  with  snoir.    ac 

slowly  intoned. 


THE  THUMB-TAP  CLUE 


3" 


My  heart  MB*  a  littie  as  I  heard  Win.  ^ 'f**^^ 
had  overtaxed  hU  strength.  He  was  wanderaj J^I 
again  into  irrelcvandcs.     He  had  missed  the  high 

^"^t's  an  right,  old  man,"  I  tried  to  console  Mm. 
"There's  no  use  overdoing  this.    You  sit  there  for  a 

while  and  catei  down."  .^      .,u   juj. 

As  I  sank  into  a  diair  on  the  other  side  of  the  desk. 

defeated,  staring  wearily  about  that  book-lined  room 
that  was  housing  so  indeterminaU;  a  tragedy,  the  door 
on  my  left  was  thrown  open.  Through  it  stepp^  a 
woman  m  an  ivory-tinted  dmner  gown  over  which 
was  thrown  a  doth-of-gold  cloak. 

I  sat  there  blinking  up  at  her,  for  it  was  Mary  Lodc- 
woodhersdf.  It  was  not  so  much  her  sudden  appear- 
ance as  die  words  she  spoke  to  the  huddled  figure  on 
the  other  side  of  the  desk  that  startled  me. 

«You  were  right,"  she  said,  with  a  self-obUterataig 
intensity  of  purpose.    "Father  taps  hU  thumbs.    I  saw 

him  do  it  an  hour  ago!" 
I  sat  staring  at  her  as  die  stood  in  the  center  of  the 

room,  a  tower  of  ivory  and  gold  against  the  dufl  wid 
mottled  cotors  of  Ae  book-Uned  wan.    I  waited  for 

her  to  speak.  Then  out  of  the  mottled  colors  that 
confnmted  my  eye.  out  of  the  faded  ydlows  and  rusty 
browns,  the  dun  greens  and  brig^iter  reds,  and  tibc  giH 
of  countless  titles,  my  gaze  rested  on  a  near-by  oWoog 

I  toofced  at  k  without  quite  sedng  it  Thenitcanie 
capiickmsly  home  to  me  «iat  Mue  had  been  tiie  cotor 
that  CriawcH  had  mentboed. 


3IJ    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


1      '    '       ■» 


But  after  all  blue  is  only  blue»  I  vacuously  tdd  n^ 
wdt  as  I  got  up  and  croued  the  room.  Hien  I  saw 
the  white  streak  at  the  top  of  the  book,  and  for  no 
adequate  reason  my  heart  suddenly  leaped  up  into  n^ 
threat 

I  snatdwd  at  that  thing  of  blue  and  white,  like  a 
man  overboard  snatching  at  a  life-line  I  jericed  it 
from  its  resting-place  and  crossed  to  the  desk-^ 
with  it 

On  its  blue  title  page  I  read :  "Report  of  the  Com- 
missioner of  the  North  West  Mounted  Police,  1898." 

The  volume,  I  could  see  at  a  glance,  was  a  Canadian 
Government  Blue  Book.  It  was  a  volume  which  I  my» 
self  had  exploited,  in  my  own  time,  and  for  my  own 
ends.  But  those  ends,  I  remembered  as  I  took  up  the 
book  and  ^ock  it,  belonged  now  to  a  world  thstt  seemed 
very  foolish  and  very  far-away.  Then,  having  shaken 
the  volume  as  a  terrier  shakes  a  rat,  I  turned  it  over 
and  looked  through  it  This  I  did  with  a  sbwly  nnk« 
ing  heart 

It  held  nothing  of  significance.  Yet  I  took  it  up 
and  shook  it  and  ri£9ed  through  its  leaves  <mce  more, 
to  make  sure.  Then  between  what  I  saw  to  be  tlw 
eighteenth  and  nineteenth  pages  of  that  section  whidi 
bore  the  title  "The  Report  of  In^)ector  Moodie,"  I 
came  upon  a  phot(^;raphic  insert,  a  tint-block  photo- 
engraving. It  carried  the  inscription:  "The  Summit 
of  Laurier  Pass  Loddng  Westward."  What  made 
me  suddenly  stop  breathing  was  the  fact  that  diis 
photograph  showed  two  hills  covered  with  snow. 

"Criswell!"  I  called  out  so  sharply  that  it  onttt 


iiai 


THE  THUMB-TAP  CLUE 


3*3 


have  sounded  liTce  a  Kreani  to  the  bewildered  woman 
in  the  doth-of-gold  doak. 
"Yes/*  he  answered  m  his  far-away  voice. 
'*AVa8  John  Lodcwood  ever  interested  in  Northern 
British  Columbia?  Did  he  happen  to  have  any  claims 
or  interests   .r  plans  that  would  make  him  kx*  up 
trails  in  a  Police  Patrol  report?" 
"I  don't  know,"  was  the  wearily  indifferent  answer. 
"Think,  man!"  I  called  out  at  Wm.   **Tfmkf* 
"I  can't  think,"  he  complained. 
**WouWn't  he  have  to  look  up  roads  to  a  new  mining- 
camp  in  that  district?"  I  persUted. 

"Yes,  I  think  he  did,"  was  the  slow  response.  Then 
the  speaker  looked  up  at  me.    His  stupor  was  ahnost 
that  of  intoxication.    His  wandering  eye  V^^^^ 
steadily  down  at  the  Blue  Book  as  I  once  more  nfM 
through  its  pages,  from  back  to  front     I  MW  his 
wavering  glance  grow  steady,  his  whole  face  diange. 
I  put  the  book  down  on  the  dedc-top,  with  the  picttire 
of  Laurier  I'ass  uppermost  under  the  flat  white  light. 
I  saw  the  man's  eyes  gradually  dilate,  and  hb  body 
rise,  as  though  some  unseen  hydraulic  machineiy  were 
slowly  and  evenly  elevating  it 
"Why.  there's  the  Uue!    There's  the  whiter   he 

gasped. 

"Go  onl"  I  cried.    "Go  onr 

"And  those  are  the  two  hills  covered  with  snow! 
That's  it!  I  see  itl  I  see  it  now!  That's  the  book  John 
Lockwood  was  going  through  «*«*  /  lumdtd  Wm 

"What  letter?"  I  insisted. 


314    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 


■4 

J 

'4 

^:.i 

i 
1 

uJ 

"Carlton't  letter/'  he  proclaimed. 

"Then  where  U  it  ?"  I  asked,  sick  at  heart  I  looked 
from  Crifwell  to  the  girl  in  the  gold  ck>ak  as  she 
crossed  the  room  to  die  bodk-shelf  and  looped  over 
the  ^»ce  from  yihith  I  had  so  feverishly  snatched  die 
Bhie  Book.  I  saw  her  brush  the  dust  from  her  finger- 
tips, stoop  lower,  and  again  reach  in  between  the 
shelves.  Then  I  k)oked  back  at  Criswell,  for  I  coukl 
hear  his  voice  rise  almost  to  a  scream. 

"/  remetnbert  I  set  it  now!  And  Ms  got  to  re- 
membtrl  He's  got  to  remember!" 

1  shook  my  head,  hopelessly,  as  he  flung  himsdf 
down  in  the  chair,  sobbhig  out  that  fodish  cry,  over 
and  over  agaia 

"Yes,  he's  got  to  remember,''  I  could  hear  Mary 
Lockwood  say  as  she  turned  and  faced  us. 

"But  what  will  make  him?"  I  asked,  as  her  studious- 
ly impersonal  gaze  met  mine. 

'This  will,"  she  announceu  as  she  hdd  out  her 
hand.  I  saw  then,  for  the  first  time,  that  in  this  hand 
she  was  hokling  a  heavily  inscribed  and  R-stamped 
envelope. 

"What's  that?''  demanded  Criswell,  starii^  hard. 

"It's  your  lost  letter,"  answered  Mary  Lodcwood. 
"How  it  fell  out,  I  don't  know.  But  we  do  know,  new, 
that  father  shut  this  letter  up  b  that  book.  And  the 
Lodcwoods,  I'm  afraid,"  she  ccmtimied  with  an  Odd 
little  <juaver  in  her  voke,  "will  hav«  a  vary,  very 
great  deal  to  adc  your  forgiveness  for.  I'm  sorry,  Mr. 
Criswell,  territdy  sc^ry  this  ever  hs^tpennt    But  I'm 


THE  THUMB-TAP  CXUE 


31$ 


glad.  terriWy  glad,  that  it  hat  tamed  otit  the  way  it 

haa.'* 
There  was  a  moment  of  quite  unbroken  silence.  Then 

CrisweU  turned  to  me.  „  . .  «  u    ««.«« 

"It's  vol*  I've  got  to  thank  for  an  this,"  he  finiJly 

Mustered  out.  with  moist  yet  happy  eyes,  as  he  did 

hU  best  to  wring  my  Und  off.    "It's  you  w^ve.- 

who've  reinstated  mel"  .  _f    j^    .« 

We  were  standing  there  in  a  sort  of  triangle,  very 

awkward  and  iU-at-eaae,  until  I  found  Ae  courage  to 

break  the  silence.  «^«.f,*- 

"But  I  don't  seem  to  have  been  able  to  reinstate 
myself.  CrisweU."  I  said  as  I  turned  and  met  Mary 
lidcwood's  level  gaze.  She  kwked  at  me  out  of  those 
intrepid  and  unequivocating  eyes  of  hers,  for  a  fmi 
half  mhmte.  Then  ihe  turned  slowly  aj^J-  She 
didn't  speak.  But  there  was  somethmg  that  toowa 
rtrangdy  like  unhappiness  in  her  face  as  she  groped 
towwi  the  door,  which  CrisweB.  I  noticed,  opened 
'for  Mf^ 


( 

I 
f 

I 

> 

H  J 


;  I 

h  i 


CHAPTER  XI 

THB  NZLB-GIBEN  K0A08TBS 

MV  HOPE  you  sIq>C  wdl,  sir/'  said  Benson,  is  I  sat 

^  down  to  my  tHvakfast  of  ked  Casaba  and  eggs 
O'Brien,  a  long  month  later. 

'like  a  top^  thank  you,"  I  was  able  tc  announce  to 
that  anxious-eyed  old  retainer  of  mine. 

"That  sounds  like  old  times,  sir,"  ventured  Benson, 
caressing  his  own  knudcle-joints  very  much  as  thot^ 
he  were  shaking  hands  with  himself. 

"It  feels  like  old  times,"  I  briskly  acknowledged. 
"And  this  morning,  Benson,  I'd  like  you  tc  dear 
out  my  study  and  get  that  clutter  of  Shang  and  Mii^ 
bronzes  off  my  writing-desk." 

"Very  good,  sir." 

"And  order  up  a  ream  or  two  of  that  Wistaria  Bond 
I  used  to  use.  For  I  fed  like  work  again,  Benson, 
and  that's  a  feeling  which  I  don't  think  we  ought  to 
neglect" 

"Quite  so,  sir,"  acquiesced  Benson,  with  an  a{>prov- 
ing  wag  of  the  head  which  he  made  small  effort  to 
conceal. 

It  was  the  truth  that  I  had  spoken  to  Benson.  The 
drought  seemed  to  have  ended.  The  old  psychasthenic 
inertia  had  slipped  away.  Life,  for  some  unaccountable 
reason  or  other,  still  again  seemed  wonderful  to  m^ 
touched  with  some  undefined  promise  of  high  adven- 

316 


THE  NILE-GREEN  ROADSTER        317 

t„«.  erowmd  once  mo«  wW,  U»  fdfhW.  wta^ 
of  ;«««..  G«»««J' Sq»«..  from  «V  ft«^ 
dowi.  loolttd  like  iOfiietWiig  Art  »^»«^^^ 
!S2ta^dr.w«.  A  n,ilk-i«e«..  J«t  beyond  *e 
X.^  n«  «.dd«.Iy  *ink  of  Ptoethcj,  »jd  h» 

tack  to  my  dedc  to  thrice  out  the  wnp  of  a«tt~u 

fwUtedto  write  once  more.  »  *"".~r*' ^" 
L  l»t  tho«  impo»iMe  Al«k»,  domgod.  of  *. 
..rlier  day,  bnt  rto»t  teri  men  »d  ''««^J^ 
Ae  p«>ple  I  had  met  »d  known  »d  •»"'«"'»» 

„,Sundingof.  Li<«'J'*8»J»'«fj:^"r^; 
"pert  pme,  a  game  wen  worth  watching.  dooMy 

weU  worth  trying  to  interprrt.  ,_,^,_^j,It 

So  when  I  settled  down  that  day  1  wrote  feverirtuy 

,«1 1  wrote  Joyooriy.  '  «™»  »""  ""L^STt 
camped  and  my  he«lw«.onpty.  I~"!»*«^*?! 
SSlJtogorrhea  that  left  me  cont«.tedIy  hmp  and  lax 
and  in  need  of  an  hoar  or  two  of  oP""  »'• 

So  I  saffied  forth,  hummmg  aa  I  went  "  «»»» 
sparkling  afternoon  of  e«-U«*  .pring,  and  aa  I  I»«d 
Z  qui«*  rtreet.  I  turned  jfcaaantly  over  m  that  half- 
^d  bain  of  mine  certain  ideas  as  to  the  «toe  of 
^tic  «.rprise,  together  with  a  c«f«lly  ^ 
^sdf  ^aToo  as  to  the  author-,  over-uae  of  the 
lone  arm  of  Coincidence. 

^i„cid«.c..,  I  told  myself,  were  *.pg«  -«* 
ooooed  up  altogether  too  often  on  the  P™*^^I*««- 
^^ZZti  Xg^her  too  seldom  in  actual  h^  I 
^  ^marf.  wigr  of  r««hing  hi.  end.  that  tndc  of 


3i8    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


i 


riding  the  bumpers  of  Invention,  of  swinging  and  daoh 
gling  from  the  over-wrenched  arm-socket  of  Coinci- 
dence. It  was  good  enough  for  the  glib  and  dehisive 
«>Eg«y  of  the  moving-pictures»  but — 

And  thai  I  stopped  short  I  stopped  short,  ccm- 
fronted  by  (me  of  those  calamitous  street-accidents 
only  too  common  in  any  of  our  twentieth-century 
cities  where  speed  and  greed  have  com  «  weigh  Mfe 
so  lightly. 

I  scarcely  know  which  I  noticed  first,  the  spick-and- 
span  doverleaf  roadster  sparkling  in  its  coat  of  Nile- 
green  enamel,  or  the  girl  who  seemed  to  step  directly 
in  its  path  as  it  went  humming  ak»g  the  smooth  ai^ 
polished  asj^alt  But  by  one  of  those  mirMukxisly 
rapid  calculations  of  which  the  human  mind  is  quite 
often  capable  I  realized  that  this  same  8oftly4raai» 
ming  car  was  predestined  to  come  more  or  less  vio- 
lently into  contact  with  that  frail  and  seemingly  hesi- 
tating fi^^ure. 

My  first  impulse  was  to  turn  away,  to  avoid  a 
spectiide  whkh  instinct  told  me  would  be  horrible. 
For  stin  again  I  f eh  the  beak  of  cowardice  spearmg 
my  vitals.  I  had  the  odynephoUac's  dread  of  bkxxL 
It  unmanned  me;  it  sickened  my  souL  And  I  wodd 
at  least  have  covered  ay  hct  with  ny  hands,  to  Uot 
out  the  scene,  had  I  not  suddenly  remembered  that 
other  and  strangely  shnilar  occasion  when  a  car  came 
into  violent  collision  with  a  human  body.  And  it  bad 
been  my  car.  On  that  occasion,  I  only  too  w^  knew, 
I  had  proved  taqiardcxiably  vadUatii^;  and  cravto."  I 
had  niQ  away  from  Uie  h(MTor  I  should  have  ftoed 


MiWMiaiMililiiii 


mim 


THE  NILE-GREEN  ROADSTER  319 
likeaman.  And  I  bad  paid  for  my  cowardice  F^d 
i^  it  at  the  incredibly  extortionate  pncc  of  my 
adf-resoect  and  my  peace  of  mind.  , 

^Xtime  Hoiked  myself  to  face  the  mu«c 
I  steeled  myself  to  stand  by,  ev«i  as  *«  niovmg  a^ 
struck  the  hesitating  body  and  threw  it  to  the  pav<y 
^t  My  heart  jumped  uj.  inta  my  throat,  hke  a 
^-valve.  and  I  shouted  aloud,  in  mortal  terror,  for 
?tdd^  wLe  the  skirted  body  trailed  in  under  Ac 

running-gear  of  the  Nile-green  roadster,  draggmg 
Zr^f^vement  as  the  two  white  hands  du.g 
frantically  to  the  green-i«inted  sprmg-leaves^  Bu^  I 

didn't  run  away.  I"^**^  ^^  "*°~°«  ^T'^^jf  Vf 
did  exactly  the  opposite.    I  swung  out  to  the  side  of 

the  fallen  girl,  who  stiffened  in  my  arms  asl ,  deed  her 
up.  Then  I  spread  my  overcoat  out  along  the  c^b, 
aid  placed  tiie  inert  body  on  top  of  it.  for  m  my  to 

unr^soningpanicIassumedtiuitA^^^ 

I  could  see  saUvia  streaked  with  Mood  dr<K)hng  fr«n 

herpartedHps.  Itwashomm   ^^^J^}^^ 
su«tibat  she  was  stin  aHve.  tiiat  she  was  still  bmti^ 

ing.  when  I  became  consdous  of  the  fact  Aat  a  second 
^  who  had  run  atong  beside  the  air  Aaking  to. 
fist  np  at  its  driver,  was  standing  dose  beside  me.  He 
was^  eWerfy  man,  a  venerable-looking  man.  a  maa 
with  silveiy  hair  and  a  medc  and  threadl«e  asp^t- 
He  was  wringing  his  hands  and  moaning  in  his  iria- 
eiy  as  he  fta«d  dawn  at  the  girl  strttdied  out  on  nqr 

^They've  WBed  herr  he  cried  atoud.    "O  Gad, 
tiiey'ye  kilkd  herr     . 


.; 


h  * 


320    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

"Do  you  know  this  gixlV*  I  d«nanded  as  I  did  my 
best  to  loosen  the  throat  of  her  ^rt-waist 

"Yes—yes  I  She's  my  BabWe.  She's  my  niece. 
"She's  aU  I  have,"  was  his  reply.  *'But  they've  killed 
her."  ^ 

"Acting  that  way  won't  help  things!"  I  told  him,  al- 
most angrily.  Then  I  looked  up,  still  angrily,  to  see 
what  had  become  of  the  Nile-green  car.  It  had  drawn 
in  close  beside  the  curb,  not  thirty  feet  away.  I  could 
see  a  woman  stepping  down  from  the  driving-seat  All 
I  noticed,  at  first,  was  that  her  face  seemed  very  white, 
a;id  that  as  she  turned  and  moved  toward  us  her  left 
hand  was  pressed  tight  against  her  breast  It  strudc 
me,  even  in  that  moment  of  tension,  as  an  indescrib- 
ably dramatic  gesture. 

Then  the  long  arm  of  the  goddess  known  as  Coin- 
cidence swung  up  and  smote  me  full  in  the  face,  as 
solidly  as  a  blacksmith's  hammer  smites  an  anvil. 
For  the  woman  I  saw  walking  white-faced  yet  de- 
termined toward  where  I  knelt  at  the  curb-side  wai 
Mary  Lockwood  herself. 

I  stood  up  and  faced  her  in  the  cruel  clarity  of  the 
slanting  afternoon  sunlight  For  <»ly  a  moment,  I 
noticed,  her  stridcen  eyes  rested  on  the  figure  of  the 
woman  lying  along  the  curb-edge.  Then  they  rose" 
to  my  face.  In  those  eyes,  as  she  stared  at  me,  I 
could  read  the  question,  the  awful  question,  which  her 
lips  left  unuttered.  Yet  it  was  not  fear;  it  was  not 
cowardice,  that  I  saw  written  on  that  tragically  color- 
less brow.  -It  was  more  a  dumb  protest  against  in- 
justice without  bounds,  a  passionate  and  unarticulated 


THE  NILE-GREEN  ROADSTER       ja' 
p,««B„g  for  »n»  ddi«™.g  s«rt«ce  which  she  kne* 

could  not  be  P^^'      .  j  ;„  3„„er  to  that  un- 

?"•  *'ir    ^he\^  not  e«n  be  seriously 
spoken  question.       »nc  hu*/ 

hurt.    But—"  ,.      stj^aiced  with 

"She  s  kiiiea,    nc  /      excitedly  retorted. 

"She's  no  '-•^^•JL'tMr  I  demanded, 
"But  yoo  saw  »*»»  *J  *?.~  ;,.    They  ran 

clutching  at  my  ^:^^ Zd  her;  ftey« 
her  down,  hke  a  dog.    Theyve  xiuu 

^.r  ".^^  rtTreviving'^H  on  the 
"^I^fup"  I  curtly  commanded  the  old  man  as  he 

STL  %  i»'t  «>*  -  r*  """o,  ^' 

J r^el^^fwasTremutous,  but  U«  id-d  h«.d 

SIThungatV     Me '~.™"?^'^^  me.    "To 
"Couldn't  :       J  hw  home?  she  a*ea  me. 

my  home?**  . 

I  was  busy  puslung  bade  the  crowd. 

«n"  I  SwIT-a  hospital's  b«t    "^Pf^ 
yourcirthere.   Then  you  run  her  over  to  the  Roose- 


'  w 


322    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

velt.  That's  even  better  than  waitmg  for  an  am- 
btilance/' 

I  stooped  over  the  injur^  girl  again  and  felt  her 
pulse.  It  struck  me  as  an  amazingly  strong  and 
steady  pulse  for  any  one  in  such  a  predicament  And 
her  respiration,  I  noticed,  was  very  close  to  normal  I 
examined  each  side  of  her  face,  and  inspected  her 
lips  and  even  her  tongue-tip,  to  see  if  some  cut  or 
abrasion  there  couldn't  account  for  that  disturlnng 
streak  of  blood.  But  I  could  find  neither  cut  nor 
bruise,  and  by  this  time  the  old  man  was  again  mak- 
ing  himself  heard. 

"You'll  take  her  to  no  pest-house/'  he  was  ex- 
citedly proclaiming.  "She'll  come  home  with  me— 
what's  left  of  her.    She  must  come  h(»ne  with  me  I" 

Mary  Lockwood  stared  at  him  with  her  tragic  and 
still  slightly  bewildered  eyes. 

"Very  well,"  she  quietly  announced.  "I'll  take  her 
home.    I'll  take  you  both  h(»ne." 

And  at  this  the  old  man  seemed  immensely  re- 
lieved. 

"Where  is  it  you  want  to  go?"  I  rather  impatiently 
demanded  of  him.  For  I'd  decided  to  get  them  away 
from  there,  for  Mary's  sake,  before  the  inevitable  pa- 
trolman or  reporter  happened  along. 

"On  the  other  ade  of  Brooklyn,"  explained  the 
bereft  one,  with  a  vague  hand-wave  toward  the  east. 
I  had  to  push  back  the  crowd  again,  before  I  was  able 
to  gather  the  limp  form  up  from  its  asf^ialted  resting- 
I^ace. 

"And  what's  your  name?"  I  demanded  as  the  old 


ni, :   1 


jggM 


THE  NILE-GREEN  ROADSTER        333 
«an  came  shuffling  along  beside  us  on  our  way  to  the 

waiting  car.  i-^«**„ »» 

"Crotty/'  he  announced.    "Zachary  Crotty. 
It  waii't  untU  I'd  placed  the  injured  girl  m  the 
softly-upholstered  car-seat  that  that  name  of    Crotty, 
sent  Uke  a  torpedo  across  the  open  spaces  of  distrac- 
tion.  exploded  against  the  huU-plates  of  ^^^^ 
Crotty !   The  very  name  of  Crotty  took  my  though^ 

suddenly  wingmg  bade  to  yet  another  streef^^f^^ 
Tn  accident  in  which  I  myself  had  figured  so  activdy 

and  so  unfortunately.   F^^^  C^^r*-?' "T.«ff^r 
man,  I  remembered,  who  had  confirmed  my  chauffeur 

LatrdUe's  verdict  as  to  the  victhn  of  that  never-to^ 
forgotten  Hallowe'en  affair.  Crotty  was  the  mdi^ 
vid^  who  had  brought  word  to  LatreUle  that  we  had- 
really  killed  a  man.  And  Crotty  was  not  a  remarkably 
common  name.  And  now.  oddly  enough,  he  was  figur- 
ing  in  another  accident  of  aknost  the  same  nature. 

Something  prompted  me  to  r«jch  "^^V""'^ 
hand  of  the  still  comatose  girl.  That  hand  I  noticed, 
was  warm  to  the  touch.  Then  I  turned  and  mspected 
the  veneraWe-looking  old  man  who  was  now  weeping 
volubly  mto  a  large  cotton  handkerchief. 

"You'U  have  to  give  us  your  street  and  number. 
I  told  Wm,  as  a  mask  to  cover  that  continued  wspcc- 

tion  of  mine.  _     ., ,      _  -  .,_, 

He  did  so.  between  sob*.   A«d  as  he  did  so  I  tol.^ 

to  detect  any  trace  of  actual  tears  on  his  face  What 
was  more.  I  felt  sure  that  the  eye  periodically  con- 
cealed by  the  noi«ly-fiouri Aed  han&erchief  wm  a 
dironically  roving  eye,  an  unstable  eye.  an  eye  Aat 


324    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


aeemed  averse  to  meeting  your  own  honestly  inquirinf 
glance. 

That  discovery,  or  perhaps  I  ought  to  say  that  sus- 
I»cion,  caused  me  to  turn  to  Mary,  who  was  already  in 
her  {dace  in  the  driving-seat 

''Wouldn't  it  be  bettei  if  I  went  with  you^  I  asked 
her,  stung  to  the  heart  by  the  mute  suffering  which 
I  could  only  too  plainly  see  on  her  milk-white  face. 

"No,"  she  told  me  as  she  motioned  for  the  girl's 
uncle  to  dimb  into  the  car.  'This  is  something  I've 
got  to  do  myself." 

"^d  it's  something  that'U  have  to  be  paid  for, 
and  well  paid  for,"  declaimed  our  silvery-haired  old 
friend  as  he  stowed  away  his  cotton  handkerchief  and 
took  up  his  slightly  triumphant  positicm  in  that  Nile- 
green  roadster. 

It  was  not  so  mudi  this  statement,  I  think,  as  the 
crushed  and  hopeless  look  in  Mary  Lockwood's  eyes 
that  prompted  me  to  lean  in  across  the  car-door  and 
meet  the  gaze  of  those  ^es  as  they  stared  so  un- 
seeingly  down  at  me. 

"I  wish  you'd  let  me  go  with  you,"  I  begged,  put- 
ting my  pride  in  my  pocket. 

"What  good  would  that  do?"  she  demanded,  with  a 
touch  of  bitterness  in  her  voice.  Her  foot,  I  could  see, 
-was  already  pressing  down  on  the  starter-knob. 

"I  might  be  aUe  to  help  you,"  I  ndhr  inadequately 
ventured.  Even  as  I  spoke,  howev^^  caught  sight 
of  the  blue-clad  figure  of  a  patrolman  pushing  his 
way  through  the  crowd  along  the  curb.  I  imagme 
that  Mary  also  caught  sight  of  that  figure,  for  a  shadow 


THE  NILE^REEN  ROADSTER  3^5 
p,«d  ac«>~  her  face  «Kl  Uic  I-tae  o»  «»»"*«  i"- 
"T'J:^^  -id  in  .J»«  of  ^^„ga,p. 

S^  *e  reU«d  hand  posed  so  .mp.ss.v^ 

*^^  the  tios  of  the  first  and  second  fingers,  rnat 
X^I  ^'  '»  """^^^  brought  'bo«. 
CTe  use  rf  ciga«ttes.  ^  was  a  n»rk  p»d«rto 
the  taWtual  smoker.  Yet  Ae  ««*  «rf  dnd><ol«»d 
^STl  had  Ufted  into  that  c.r.«»t  cc«ld  «ar«ly 
JHocwted  as  a  consuiwr  of  "crftoHMfls^  It  Wt 
^^wMchthei.onofRea«»fo«»dh«dtoeradi- 

**'l,  left  me  «i«5nti"g  •ft.'  ^  '''^f^l^^w  'Z 
fact  "  ith  s.m«thing  more  than  perptaaty  mhb^  at 

Z^^e,  „.avi^^r^v«  -bout  *e  t««i«y^ 
SrlintheNik^eencar.    And  a  «.dden  .die  to  foW 

L  after  that  girt,  to  stand  ^"^^I^^^^T^^'^ 
«tiTities  whid.  she  could  never  comprdiend,  took  po.. 

session  of  we.  .. 

Any  sud.  pursuit,  however,  was  not  M  asy  as  it 
™™^fseA  Fori  first  had  to  expiate  to  that  mquinng 
C^^  iTthe  acddent  h«l  h.«.  a  trivial  one,  t.^ 
fZ^  bothered  about  tddng  the  Hco«e-number 


326    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


•*|!» 


of  the  car.  and  that  I  couM  be  found  at  my  home  in 
Gramercy  Square  in  case  any  further  information 
might  be  deemed  necessary.  Then,  once  clear  of  the 
neighborhood,  I  hesitated  between  two  possible 
courses.  One  was  to  get  in  touch  with  Mary's  father 
over  the  phone,  with  John  Lockwood.  The  other  was 
to  hurry  down  to  Pohce  Headquarters  and  talk  things 
oyer  with  my  .-ood  friend  Lieutenant  Belton  But 
either  movement,  I  remembered,  would  have  stood  dis- 
tasteful to  Mary  herself.  It  meant  publicity,  and  pub- 
licity was  one  thing  to  be  avoided.  So  I  solved  the 
problem  by  taking  an  altogether  different  tack.  I 
did  what  deep  down  in  my  heart  I  had  been  wanting  to 
do  all  along.  I  hailed  a  passing  taxicab,  hopped  in, 
and  made  straight  for  that  hinterland  district  of 
Brooklyn  where  Crotty  had  described  his  home  as 
standing. 

I  didn't  drive  directly  to  that  home,  but  dismissed 
my  driver  at  a  near-by  comer  and  approached  the 
house  on  foot.  There  was  no  longer  any  Nile-green 
car  in  sight  And  the  house  itself,  I  noticed,  was  a 
distinctly  unattractive-looking  one,  a  shabby  one,  even 
a  sordid  one.  I  stood  m  the  shadow  of  the  side- 
entrance  to  one  of  those  gilt-lettered  comer-sak>ons 
which  loom  like  aromatic  oases  out  of  man's  most 
dismal  Saharas,  studying  that  altogether  repeltent 
house-front.  And  as  I  stood  there  making  careful  note 
of  its  minutest  characteristics  a  figure  came  briskly 
down  its  brdcen  sandstone  steps. 

What  made  me  catch  my  breath,  however,  was  the 
fact  that  the  figure  was  that  of  a  man,  and  the  man 


.L^U^ 


THE  NILE-GREEN  ROADSTHl       3*7 

was  LatreHk.  my  ex-dumffeuf .  And  nm  H^}^ 
rcmeoibered,  the  long  arm  of  Coincidciice  waa  wadi- 
ing  out  and  ptaddng  me  by  the  iteeve. 

But  I  didn't  Knger  there  to  mediUte  owr  this  ah- 
rtrmctkm.  for  I  noticed  that  Latreme.  sauntering  along 

the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  had  signaled  to  two 
other  men  leisurdy  approaching  my  caravansary  from 
the  near-by  comer.  One  of  these,  I  saw,  was  AeoW 
man  known  as  Crotty.  And  it  was  dbnous  thrt  wi Ahi 
two  minutes' time  they  would  converge  somewhere  dis- 

agreei  Jly  dose  to  the  spot  where  I  stood. 

So  .  bactod  discreetly  and  quietiy  through  the  SKk^ 
entrai.-*  of  that  many-odored  beer-parlor.  There  I 
encountered  an  Hil)ernian  bartender  with  an  eirq)ty  tray 

and  an  exceptionally  eva  eye.  I  detained  hun,  howerer. 

with  a  fraternal  hand  on  his  deere.  ^ 

"Sister,"  I  hurriedly  explained.  'Tve  got  a  date 
wttharibhere.    Can  you  put  me  under  cover?- 

It  was  patois,  I  fdt  sure,  which  ^,  f^/« 
tmderstanding.  But  it  wasn't  mitil  he  bcheW  A«five- 
spot  which  I'd  sUd  up  on  his  tray  that  Ae  look  of 
world-weary  cynicism  vanished  from  his  face. 

"Sure."  he  said  as  he  promptly  and  unpassively 
twckcted  the  WIL  Then  without  a  word  or  tiie  Wmk 
STm  eye  he  pushed  in  past  a  room  crowded  with 
round  tabla  on  iron  pedestals,  took  the  key  out  of  a 
door  opening  in  the  rear  wall,  thrust  It  mto  my  fingers, 

and  offhandedfy  motioned  me  inside. 
I  stepped  in  thitwgh  that  door  and  closed  and  lock^ 

It    Then  I  inspected  my  quarters.    They  "f^^J^ 
quent  enou^  of  sordid  and  ugly  adventure.    They 


if:  k 
'i  ; 


t 

I 


3a8    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SUftEP 

mOt  of  sour  liquor  and  stale  dgu-vackt,  with  a 
▼ague  over-tone  of  orris  and  patchou^    On  one  side 
of  the  room  was  an  imitation  Turkish  couch,  on  the 
other  an  untidy  washstand  and  a  charred-edged  card- 
table.    Half-way  between  these  there  was  a  **speak- 
easy,"  a  small  sliding  wall-panel  through  which  liquid 
refreshments  might  be  served  without  any  undue  inter- 
ruption to  the  privacy  of  those  partaking  of  the  same. 
This  speak-easy,  I  noticed  as  I  slid  it  back  the  merest 
trifle,  opened  on  the  **beer  parlor,"  at  the  immediate 
rear  of  the  bar-room  itself,  the  "parlor"  where  the 
thirsty  guest  might  sit  at  one  of  the  little  round  taUes 
and  consume  his  "suds"  or  his  fusel-oil  whisky  at  his 
leisure.     And  the  whole  place  impressed  me  as  the 
sort  of  thing  that  still  made  civilization  a  mockery  and 
suburban  recreation  a  viper  that  crawled  on  its  bdly. 
I  was,  in  fact,  still  peering  through  my  little  speak- 
easy slit  in  the  wall  when  I  became  conscious  of  the 
three  figures  that  came  sidling  into  that  empty  room 
with  the  little  round  tables.    I  could  see  them  distmct- 
ly.    There  was  the  silvery-haired  old  Crotty ;  there  was 
Latreille;  and  there  was  a  rather  unkempt  and  furtive- 
eytd  individual  who  very  promptly  and  unmistakably 
impressed  me  as  a  drug-addict     And  repugnant  as 
eavesdropping  was  to  me,  I  couldn'i  help  leaning  ck>se 
to  my  speak-easy  crevice  and  listening  to  that  worthy 
trio  as  they  seated  themselves  within  six  feet  of  where 
I  stood,  Latreille  and  old  Crotty  with  their  backs  to 
me,  the  untidy  individual  whom  they  addressed  as 
The  Doc  sitting  facing  the  wall  that  shielded  me. 
"Swell  kipping!"   contentedly   murmured   one  of 


mm 


THE  NILB^REEN  ROADSTER       jap 

that  trio,  out  of  thdr  momentary  tiknce.  And  at 
that  I  promptly  pricked  up  my  ears,  for  I  knew  that 
fwell  kipping  in  the  vernacular  of  the  underworld 
stood  for  eaiy  harvesting. 

"What'll  it  be,  boy«?"  interrupted  a  voice  which  I 
recognized  as  the  bartender's. 

"Bourbon,"  barked  Latreille. 

"A  slug  o'  square-face,  Mickey,"  companionably 
announced  the  oW  gentleman  known  as  Crotty. 

"Deep  beer,"  sighed  he  who  was  designated  as  The 
Doc.  Then  came  the  sound  of  a  match  being  struck, 
the  scrape  of  a  chair-leg,  and  the  clump  of  a  fist  on 
the  table-top,  followed  by  a  quietly  contented  laugh. 

"It's  a  pipe!"  announced  a  solemn^  exultant  voice. 
And  I  knew  the  speaker  to  be  my  distinguished  ex- 
chauffeur.    "It's  sure  one  grand  little  dnch!" 

"Nothing's  a  dnch  until  you  get  the  goods  in  your 
jeans,"  contended  Crotty.  with  the  not  unnatural  sk^ 

ticism  of  8^  

"But  didn't  she  hand  her  hundred  and  ten  over 
to  The  Doc,  just  to  cover  running-expenses?  Ain't 
that  worth  rcmcmberin'?  And  ain't  she  got  the  fear 
o'  Gawd  thrown  into  her?  And  ain't  she  comin'  back 
to-night  wit'  that  wine-jelly  and  old  Port  and  her  own 
chedc-book?"  .    . 

This  allocuticMi  was  followed  by  an  8^)prcaatnre 

silence.  ^^ 

"But  it's  old  Lodcwood  who's  got  o'  come  across, 

that  individual  known  as  The  Doc  finally  reminded 

his  confreres. 

This  brought  a  snort  of  contempt  from  Latreille. 


330    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

"I  ten  you  again  old  LodcwoodTl  fight  you  to  die 
drop  of  the  hit  The  girl't  your  neat  She't  your 
mark.  You've  got  herl  And  if  you've  only  got  the 
braint  to  milk  her  right  she's  pxxi  for  forty  thou- 
•aad.  She's  weakened  already.  She'i  on  the  akidt. 
And  she's  got  a  pile  of  her  own  to  pull  fromr 

"Forty  thousaadr  echoed  the  other,  with  a  saadc 
ofthehpSL 

"That's  thirteen  tfiotwand  a-pfcce,"  amended  La- 
treille  largdy,  "with  one  over  f.>r  Car-Step  Sadie." 

**Cttt  out  that  aanM^"  comn-aiidfld  Crotty. 

"Wen,  Babbie  then,  il  thfet  suits  you  better.  And 
^8  a  landsUde  for  herP' 

"Ain't  she  earned  itr  demanded  her  sitvety-faaind 
ddgtardiaa 

"Strikes  me  aa  being  pretty  good  pay  for  gettk' 
bunted  over  with  a  play-car  and  not  even  a  shm- 
brune." 

**WeU,  ain't  her  traintn'  worth  sometUur.  m  this 
wodcr  — ^»       mm 

-Sure  k  is-bot  how  'n  hdl  did  she  pt  g«  bbod 
streakin'  across  her  face  so  nice  and  life-like?  * 

The  silvery-hak-ed  okl  gentleman  dmckled  as  he 
put  down  his  giass  of  square-lace. 

That's  sure  our  Babbie's  one  little  ^»d-«tand 
play!  Ypu  see,  die  ke^  the  pulp  eq»osed  in  oi»  o' 
herbKkteeth.  Then  a  lUtle  suck  with  her  tei^ue  over 
It  makas  it  Ueed,  on  a  half-num^  aotiee.  fk^w 
bow  she  worked  the  hemorrhi«e.«M»  willi  oil 
Brow-hial  BIB  aS  last  winter,  beloi« 
bim  up  the  river.** 


THE  NILE-GREEN  ROADSTER       331 


I  itood  there,  ietninf  igatnst  ^  ioBtd  iMi  acroM 
iiHtkh  must  Iwve  pasted  so  im^  ^.f  the  ^qmd  ttMt 
eheert  4q>retMd  htimanit)'.  But  never  before,  I  led 
mxrt,  Sd  raj^ha^  quite  so  chirring  <»ine  ^ro«i|^ 
^t  aofdtd  Utile  ipeak^aiy.  I  was  no  loager  afrmid 
of  tiM^  «idifiii»t4ooktiq;  trio  so  oonl^ittedfy  exult- 
ing cyver  their  ill-gotten  victory. 

•'WeD,  it's  a  dndi,"  went  on  the  Jroniog  voke^  '*i^ 
The  Doc'a  only  cut  out  the  dope  for  a  couple  o*  days 
and  your  Babbie  doesn't  get  to  buckir'  o .^  the  foot- 
board f 

"It  ain't  BaUtie  I'm  >rrylp  ;ver, '  atplained  old 
Crotty.  "That  girl'll  tio  what's  tx^  ^  erf  her. 
She's  got  ta     I've  wised  her  u\  on  lat't 

worryin'  me  mew*  is  that    dff-shoote-  \        ^  m 

over  there  on  Ae  Islanu." 

Stffl  again  I  c  »uld  lear  Latreii  lit  sncat  of 
(^[ten  contempt. 

"Well,  ycm  can  pi*    a«t  oui     trt  of  your  head," 


quetly  averrt '  my  ex-eiamiieii        'You  seem  to  've 


That's  d«  boob  we  un- 
ca     ^n.     And  that's  the 
Hallow-e'en  Nig^ 


forgotten  that  guy,  Zadiy. 

k>aded  the  Seiator'    town 

Hindoo  I  fraaaerl,  away  *  at 

You  re-ncmber  that,  don't      u  ^" 

I  !«   ed  closer,  with  rv         rt  pounding  under  my 
drift  an  ' :  '^'^^png  in  my  ears.    But  <Ad  Crotty  didn't 

•*On    ;  iiow      n      ght?"  bt  ruminated  alood. 

^'Whi  he  stii  ^  a^ed  yon  to  ^and  r^udy  to  give 
^  gM  worn  to,  if  ht  h  npened  roimd  for  any  hiAieaa- 
^»pi»  scmg  and  dance!         .  pted  the  somewhat  im- 


It 


V- 


332    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


patient  voice  of  Latreille.  "Don't  you  mind,  bade  on 
last  Hallow-e'en,  how  the  Big  Hill  boys  stuffed  that 
suit  of  old  clothes  with  straw  and  rags,  and  then 
stuck  it  up  in  the  street  ?  And  how  we  hit  that  dummy, 
and  how  I  made  the  chicken-hearted  pen-wiper  think 
that  he'd  killed  a  man  and  coyoted  off  the  scene?" 

I  dai't  know  what  old  Crotty's  reply  to  those  quej^- 
tions  were.  I  wasn't  interested  in  his  reply.  It  wasn't 
even  rage  that  swept  through  me  as  I  stood  listening 
to  those  only  too  enraging  words. 

The  first  thing  that  I  felt  was  a  sense  of  relief,  a 
vague  yet  vast  consciousness  of  deliverance,  like  a 
sleepy  lifer  with  a  governor's  pardon  being  waved 
in  his  face.  I  was  no  longer  afraid  for  Mary.  I 
was  no  longer  afraid  of  life,  afraid  of  m3rself,  afraid 
of  my  fellows.  My  slate  was  clean.  And  above  all, 
I  was  in  no  way  any  longer  afraid  of  Latreille.  / 
was  the  chicken-hearted  pen-wiper — and  I  hated  him 
for  that  wcM-d — who  had  been  "framed."  /  was  the 
over-timorous  victim  of  their  sweet-scented  conspi- 
racies. I  was  the  boob  who  had  been  made  to  tkviBt 
and  suffer  and  sweat  But  that  time  yma  over  and 
done  with,  forever.  And  the  great  wave  of  relief 
that  swept  through  me  surged  bade  again,  this  time 
crested  witih  anger,  and  then  still  agun  towered  and 
broke  in  a  misty  rush  of  pity  for  Mary  Lodewood. 
I  thought  of  her  as  something  soft  and  featliered  fai 
tiie  triple  coils  of  those  three  reptilious  conii^iirat(»s, 
as  something  dean  and  timid  and  fragile,  being  slowly 
slathered  over  by  the  fangs  whidi  were  to  fasten  them- 
selves upcm  her  iniK>cence,  which  were  to  feed  tqioa 


THE  NILE-GREEN  ROADSTER       333 

her  goodness  of  heart.    And  I  decided  that  ***  would 
never  have  to  go  through  what  I  had  been  oonpelled 

to  go  throuf^ 

I  didn't  wait  for  more.  There  was,  in  fact,  noth- 
ing more  to  wait  for,  so  far  as  I  and  my  world  were 
concerned.  I  had  found  out  all  I  wanted  to  find  out 
Yet  I  had  to  stand  there  for  a  fuH  minute,  coercing 
mysdf  to  cahraiess.  Then  I  tiptoed  across  the  room 
to  a  second  door  which  stood  in  ♦he  rear  waM,  un- 
locked it,  and  stepped  out  into  tht  narrow  and  none 
too  well-lighted  haUway.  This  led  to  a  wariiroom 
which  m  turn  opened  on  another  narrow  passageway. 
And  from  this  I  was  aMc  to  circle  bade  into  the  bar- 
room itsdf . 

I  didn't  tarry  to  make  any  explanations  to  the 
worthy  called  Mickey,  or  to  advertise  my  exit  to  his 
even  worthier  friends.  I  slipped  quietly  and  quickly 
out  of  that  unclean  street-co^ -ler  fester-spot,  veered 
off  across  the  street  where  the  eariy  spnng  twilight 
was  already  settling  down,  and  w;^  straight  to  the 
house  which  I  knew  to  be  Crott/s. 

I  didn't  even  wait  to  ring.  I  tried  the  door,  found 
it  tmlodced,  and  stepped  mside.  There,  no  sign  of 
life  confrcnted  me.  But  that  didn't  for  a  moment 
kleler  my  exfdoratiooa.  I  quietly  investigated  the 
Ground  floor,  found  it  as  unprepossessing  as  its  pro- 
prietor, and  proceeded  noiselessly  t^  the  narrow  itaip- 
way  for  an  examination  of  the  ni^w  r^^bm. 

It  wasn't  until  I  reached  the  head  of  the  stairs  tint 
I  came  to  a  stop.  For  there  I  coukl  hear  l3at  mnfBed 
but  unmistakable  sound  of  somdwdy  moving  about 


il 


334    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

It  Uxk  me  several  cmnutes  to  detennine  tfw  source 
of  tiiese  movements.  But  once  I  had  made  sure  of  n^ 
ground  I  advanced  to  the  door  at  the  bade  of  the  lutlf- 
darkened  hall  and  swung  it  open. 

On  the  far  »de  of  the  room  into  which  I  stood  star- 
ii^  I  saw  a  giii  in  house-slippers  and  a  faded  rcMe- 
colored  peignoir  thrown  over  a  nont  too  clean  night- 
dress of  soiled  linen.  In  one  hand  she  held  a  lighted 
cigarette.  With  the  other  hand  she  was  stirring  some* 
tiling  in  a  small  graniteware  stew-pan  over  a  gas- 
heater.  Her  hair  was  down  and  her  shoulders  were 
bare.  But  all  her  attentkm  seemed  concentrated  on 
that  savory  stew,  which  she  sniffed  at  himgrily,  almost 
childishly,  between  puffs  on  her  cigarette.  Then  Ai 
fell  to  stirring  her  pot  again,  with  obvious  satisfaction. 

I  had  the  door  shut  bdiind  me,  in  fturt,  before  die 
so  much  as  surmised  that  any  one  else  was  in  the  room 
with  her.  And  when  she  looked  up  and  saw  me  tiwre 
her  ores  sbwly  widened  an  f  she  slowly  and  deKber- 
ately  put  her  spoon  down  on  the  soiled  dresser-top 
beside  her.  It  wasn't  ecactly  fear  that  I  saw  creep 
intoherface.  It  was  more  the  craft  of  the  k»g4iarried 
and  case-hardened  fugitive. 

'*Bab,''  I  said,  addressii^  her  m  tiM  lat^iaiffe  yAoA 
I  imagined  would  most  f Mdbly  appeal  to  her,  1 
don't  want  to  butt  m  on  your  sk>^^  But  tene't 
preciout  and  I'm  going  to  tdk  plain." 

"^lootf  die  saM  after  a  moment  of  hesitation  fol- 
lowed fagr  aaodier  nomoit  of  ritent  appraisal. 

*Tht  cops  are  rotm^ng  t^  The  Doe  and  ok!  Crotty 
lor  di^iii  IddMr.    Thnf'fe  also  cof»j«w  hot.  &iti,  to 


THE  NILE-GREEN  ROADSTER       335 

eather  up  a  girl  caHed  Car-Step  Sadie  for  dmm- 
S4  undS  the  car  of  that  IxKkwood  woman  and 
bleeding  her  for  one  hundred  and  ten  bones,  and— 

disturbingly  diduMUe  fiture  m  «»M  »»«.  "TJ 
stood  rt^  at  me  *«. .  tort  of  mome-bk.  hostUitjr 

in  her  crafty  young  eyes.  . . 

-tot  th^«  bttagi"*  »  poBce^-rpod  dong  w^4 
W  I  ^t  gBMy  on,  "for  they  dWm.  BA  yo«« 
gT.  hollow  tooth  you  »n  .tart  Mf«l»K»V  rj 
!oM  n-d  to  st«ll  on  that  inttrmd-uijiiiy  stuff.  And 
C^ Jpa  coupl.  of  ««.  that  .«n't  going  to 
theyveaagup»^j»  District  Attorney's 

jound  any  too  good  over  m  the  u«n«  ' 

'   aTstood  once  mor«  rikntly  studying  me. 
^;jl^aM  ttt»  to  yuh,  anyway  ?•*  Ae  «^ 

"^.olittle.«y  dear."  I  airily  ackr^wladg^^ 
you  can  do  exactly  as  you  like  about  rt.    ^t"-. 
^X«'.  The  Doer  was  her  next  quick  quertion. 

••Where's  Crotty?" 

T  had  to  thirft  fast  ^^ 

t^ve  dudced.''  I  a««rt«d.  «ma«d  at  my  own 

newlyniiscovered  facility  in  fictioneering. 
"Who  said  tiiey'd  dadcedr  ^«^?" 

-Ite  you  know  Mkfcey's,  <«rer  *«^  <»  ^«  ^^'^^'^ 

^^Tm  r    h.  d«t«l  ^ro.^  the  room  «Hl 


336    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


threw  aside  the  faded  peignoir.  The  movement  made 
my  thoughts  flash  back  to  another  and  earlier  scene, 
to  the  scene  wherein  one  Vinnie  Brunelle  had  played 
the  leading  role. 

"Latrdlle/'  I  explained  to  the  girl  across  the  room, 
"droj^jed  in  at  Mickey's  and  tipped  Crotty  and  The 
Doc  off,  not  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago." 

"And  they  rabbited  off  wit'out  throwin'  me  a  sign?" 
she  indignantly  demanded. 

"They  did,"  I  prevaricated. 

She  suddenly  stopped,  swing^g  about  and  viewing 
me  with  open  suspicion. 

"Where'd  yuh  ever  know  that  Latretlle  guy?"  she 
demanded. 

"LatreiUe  worked  with  me,  for  months,"  I  declared, 
speaking  with  more  truth,  in  fact,  than  I  had  intended. 

"Then  me  for  the  tall  timber!"  announced  that  hard- 
faced  little  adventuress  as  she  began  to  scramble  into 
her  clothes. 

"Don't  you  want  me  to  get  you  a  taxi?"  I  inquired, 
baddn^  discreetly  away  until  I  stood  in  the  open  door. 

"Taxi  nuttin'l"  she  retorted  through  the  diower  of 
soiled  lingerie  that  cascaded  about  her  writhing  white 
shoulders.  "What  d'yuh  take  me  for,  anyway?  A 
ostridi?  When  I  get  under  cover,  I  go  tlwre  nw  own 
way,  and  not  wit*  all  Brooklyn  txtwlin'  me  out!" 

And  she  went  her  own  way.  She  went,  indeed, 
much  more  expeditiously  than  I  had  anticipated,  for  in 
five  minutes'  time  she  was  dressed  and  booted  and 
hatted  and  scurrying  off  through  the  now  daikene:! 
streets.     Whidi  trail  she  took  and  whiU  cover  she 


.  ,^^^  ..  ,^^^.-^,.-fe..« 


THE  NILE-GREEN  ROADSTER        337 

sourfit  didn't  in  the  least  interest  me  once  I  had  n»de 
sure  of  the  fact  she  was  faring  in  an  opposite  ihrectiwi 

to  Midcey's  thirst-apf  easing  ca«^«««^-  ^  ^^^^T 
went    She  shook  the  dust  of  that  house  off  her  f*nle 

young  heeb;  and  that  was  the  one  thing  I  desired  of 
her.  For  that  night,  I  knew,  stiU  heW  a  problem  or 
two  for  me  which  would  be  trying  enough  without  the 
presence  of  the  redoubtable  Udy  Babbie  and  her  san- 

^^oi^rX^was  dear  of  that  house.  I  decided  to 
foltow  her  example.  This,  however  was  not  so  «^ 
asithadpromisedtobe.  For  I  had  scarcely  readi^ 
Ae  foot  of  the  stairway  when  I  heard  the  «>und  of 
voices  outside  the  street  door.  And  I  promptly  rec- 
ognized them  as  Crott/s  and  Latreilles. 

mt  discovery  sent  me  groping  hurriedly  backward 
into  the  daricened  hallway.  Bx  *^^*^^^*^^,  ^^ 
opened  I  had  felt  my  way  to  a  second  fl^ht  of  s^^ 

wWch  obviously  led  to  the  bas«nent  \^f^^^ 
the  voice  of  the  man  known  as  The  Doc.  for  the  three 

men  were  now  ad^•«ldng.  and  advancing  none  too 
quietly,  into  their  mu^ty-aired  harborage.  But  my 
own  flight  down  those  basement  stairs  was  ^-t 
enough,  for  I  realized  now  the  expediency  of  shpping 
awav  and  putting  in  a  call  for  help. 

It  was  oSy  after  a  good  deal  of  groping  about,  how- 
ever that  I  was  able  to  reach  the  door  opening  on  the 
base;nent.area,  directly  under  the  street-steps.    A  huge 

brass  key.  fortunately,  stood  in  phice  there     So  ^  I 
^ed^;  I  took  the  trouble  to  relock  that  door  after 

me  and  pocket  the  key. 


mtimt 


338    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

In  five  minutes  I  had  found  a  side-street  grocery- 
store  with  a  sufficiently  sequestered  telq>hone.  And 
by  means  of  this  telephone  I  promptly  called  r  Head- 
quarters and  asked  for  Lieutenant  Belton. 

He  listened  to  what  I  had  to  say  with  much  more 
interest  than  I  had  anticipated. 

"Witter,"  he  called  back  over  the  wire,  "I  believe 
you've  stunAled  across  something  Kg." 

"Then  supposing  you  stumble  over  here  after  it," 
was  my  prompt  suggestion.    But  Belton  wasn't  to  be 
stampeded  into  the  over-hasty  action  of  the  amateur. 
"If  that  isn't  that  bunch  Headquarters  has  been  want- 
ing to  interview  for  the  last  three  months,  I  miss  my 
one  best  bet    But  in  this  business,  Witter,  you've  got 
to  know.    So  I'll  slip  over  to  the  Bureau  and  look  up 
mugs  and  records.    If  that  faint-spiUer  is  Bad  Nadeau, 
alias  Car-Step  Sadie,  there's  no  doubt  about  your  man 
being  Crotty." 
"She  is  Car-Step  Sadie,"  I  told  him. 
"Then  we'll  be  out  there  with  bells  on,"  he  calmly 
announced. 

"But  what  do  you  expect  me  to  do,  in  the  laeaii- 
time?"  I  somewhat  peevishly  demanded. 

"Just  keep  'em  guessing,"  he  tranquilly  ret<»ted. 
"keep  'em  guessing  until  we  amble  over  there  and  triK 
'em  off  your  hands  I" 

That  was  easy  enough  to  say,  I  remembered  as  I 
made  my  way  back  to  Crotty's  broken-faced  abode,  but 
the  problem  of  holding  that  unsavory  trio  in  anbjec- 
tiai  didn't  impress  me  as  an  over-trivial  one.  Yet  I 
went  back  with  a  new  fortitude  stiffening  my  bade- 


THE  NILE-GREEN  ROADSTER       339 

bone,  for  I  knew  that  whatever  wi^  happen  that 
ni^t,  I  now  had  the  Law  on  my  side. 

That  casual  littk  flicker  of  confidence,  however,  was 
not  destined  to  sustain  me  for  teng.  ^  new  cMipU- 
cation  suddenly  confronted  me.  For  as  I  gimrdedly 
approached  the  house  from  which  I'd  sent  Bab  Nadeau 
scampering  of!  into  the  night  I  noticed  the  Ni|e-grecn 
car  already  drawn  up  ctese  beside  the  curb.    And  this 

car,  I  further  noticed,  was  empty. 

So  it  was  with  a  perceptibly  quickened  pulse  that  I 
sidled  down  into  the  unclean  area,  unearthed  my  brass 
key  and  let  myself  silently  into  the  unUghted  base- 
ment Then  I  just  as  quietly  piteted  my  way  m 
through  the  darkness,  found  the  stairway,  and  as- 
ccnded  to  the  ground  floor. 

The  moment  I  reached  the  hallway  I  could  hear  the 
sound  of  voices  through  a  door  on  my  left    I  could 
hear  Mary  Lodcwood's  voice,  and  then  the  throaty 
tones  of  that  opianic  old  impostor  known  as  The  Doc 
"No  doubt  of  the  fact  at  aU,  my  dear 
young  lidy.    The  sfwie  has  been  injured   very  seri- 
ously injured.    Whether  or  not  it  will  result  m  paraly- 
sis I  can't  tell  untU  I  consult  with  my  colleague,  Doctor 
Emmanuel  Paschall.    But  we  must  count  on  Ae^r 
girl  being  hdpless  for  life,  Crotty.  helpless  for  life  f 
Thb  was  followed  by  a  mpmcnt  or  two  of  silence. 
And  I  corfd  imagine  what  that  moment  or  two  was 
costing  Mary  Lockwood, 

•'But  I  want  to  see  ti»  girV*  she  said  m  a  somewhat 
tepente  voice.    "I  fiMirt  see  her."  ^^ 

"All  in  good  tiflM,  my  dear,  an  hi  good  time,    tr^ 


i 


340    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


porized  her  Uand  old  torturer.  This  was  followed  by 
a  lower  mumble  of  voices  from  which  I  could  glean 
nothing  intelligiUe.  But  those  three  conspirators  must 
have  consulted  tc^;ether,  for  after  a  moment  of  silence 
I  caught  the  sound  of  steps  crossing  the  floor. 

'*He'll  just  slip  up  and  make  sure  the  patient  can  be 
seen,"  I  heard  the  suave  old  rascal  intone.  And  I  had 
merely  tinw  to  edge  back  and  dodge  about  the  base- 
ment stairhead  as  the  room-door  was  flung  open  and 
Latreille  stepped  out  in  the  halL  The  door  closed  again 
as  he  vanished  above-stairs. 

When  he  returned,  he  didn't  step  back  into  the  room, 
but  waited  outside  and  knock«l  on  the  closed  door. 
This  brought  old  Crotty  out  in  answer  to  the  sum- 
mons. Just  what  passed  between  that  worthy  trio, 
immured  in  their  whispo-ing  ccmsultation  in  that  half- 
lighted  hallway,  failed  to  reach  my  ears.  Put  this  in 
no  way  disturbed  me,  for  I  knew  well  enough  that  La- 
treille had  at  least  passed  on  to  them  the  alarming 
news  that  their  much  needed  patient  was  no  longer 
under  that  roof.  And  what  was  more,  I  knew  that 
this  discovery  would  serve  to  bring  things  to  a  some- 
what speedier  climax  than  we  had  all  anticipated.  There 
was  a  sort  of  covert  decisiveness  about  their  nK>ve- 
ments,  in  fact,  as  they  stepped  back  into  the  room  and 
swung  the  door  shut  behind  them.  So  I  crept  closer, 
listening  intently.  But  it  was  only  patches  and  shreds 
of  their  talk  that  I  could  overhear.  I  caught  enough, 
however,  to  know  they  were  |»-otesting  that  their 
patioit  was  too  weak  to  be  interviewed.  I  could  hear 
Crotty  feelingly  exclaim  that  it  wasn't  kind  words 


THE  NILE-GREEN  ROADSTER       34« 

wfakh  cottW  help  thU  poor  chiW  now,  but  only  wme- 
thii«  much  more  lubstantial,  and  much  more  mun- 

dane. 

"Yei,  it't  only  money  that  can  talk  hi  a  case  like 
thii,"  pointedly  concurred  The  Doc,  clearly  spurred 
on  to  a  more  open  btddness  of  advance.    And  there 
were  further  parleyings  and  arguments  and  lugubrious 
enumerations  of  possibiUties  from  the  man  of  medi- 
cine.  I  knew  well  enough  what  they  were  doing.  They 
were  conjointly  and  cunningly  brow-beating  and  intim- 
idating that  soUtary  gifl  who,  even  whUe  she  must 
have  gathered  some  inklingof  their  worldUness,  comp 
prdiended  nothing  of  the  wider  plot  they  were  weaving 
abouther.   And  I  further  knew  that  they  were  winning 
their  point,  for  I  could  hear  her  stifled  Uttlc  gasp  of 
final  surrender. 
"Very  wdl,"  her  strained  voce  said.   "I'll  give  you 

the  dieck." 

This  pregnant  sentence  was  followed  by  an  equally 
pregnant  silence.    Then  came  a  series  of  small  noises, 
among  which  I  could   distinguish  the  scrape  of  a 
chair-leg  and  steps  crosong  the  floor.   And  I  surmised 
that  Mary  was  seating  herself  at  a  desk  or  table,  to 
make  out  and  sign  the  precious  little  slip  of  papar 
whidi  Aey  were  so  unctuously  consi»ring  for.    So  h 
was  at  this  precise  moment  that  I  decided  to  mteifere. 
I  opened  the  door,  as  quietly  as  I  could,  and  stepped 
into  ^  room. 

It  was  Latrdlle  who  first  saw  me.   The  o&er  two 
men  were  too  intently  watching  the  girl  at  the  dedc. 

They  were  still  watching  her  as  she  stowfy  rose  froB 


1||.yy<liM»>MI|gW""  ' 


34* 


THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


ol 


bCtWMB 


her  chair,  with  a  Uue-tintcd  ofak 
herfingeri.  And  at  the  same  moment  that  Mary  L«ck- 
wood  stood  up  Latreille  did  the  same.  He  rose  slow^jr, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  my  face,  backing  just  as  tiowty 
away  as  he  continued  to  stare  at  me.  But  that  retreat, 
I  very  promptly  realiated,  wasn't  prompted  by  any  MOie 

of  fear. 

"Mary,"  I  called  out  sharply  to  the  girt  who  ttiu 
stood  staring  down  at  the  slip  of  Wue  paper. 

She  looked  up  as  she  heard  that  call,  peering  at  me 
with  half  incredulous  and  slightly  startled  eyes.  I 
don't  know  wheAer  she  was  glad  or  sorry  to  see  me 
there.    Periu^  it  was  both.    But  she  neither  moved 

nor  spoke. 
"Mary,"  I  cried  out  to  her,  "don't  give  that  opf 
I  moved  toward  her,  but  she  in  turn  moved  away 

from  me  untH  she  stood  dose  beside  the  ever  watdiful 

Latreille. 

"This  is  something  which  you  don't  understand,' 
she  said,  mudi  more  calmly  than  I  had  expected. 

"But  I  do/*  I  hotly  contended. 

"It's  something  which  you  can't  possibly  wider- 
stand,"  she  repeated  in  toiiea  which  threw  a  gulf  yawn- 
ing between  us. 

"But  if  s  you  who  don't,"  I  still  tried  to  tell  her. 
"These  Aiee  here  are  daim  fakers;  nothing  but  crfam- 
nali.    They're  Weedi^  yo«!    They're  blackmailing 

yottl" 

A  brief  but  portentous  silence  fell  on  tfiai  room  as 
6ie  bewildered  giri  k>oked  from  one  face  to  Uie  other. 
But  it  lasted  oidy  a  moment    The  tahteau  was  sod- 


THE  NILE-GREEN  ROADSTER       343 

deiUy  lw«k«i  by  a  moveiiwit  f rom  Latreak.  And  it 
wa»  »  qttidt  and  cat-like  movement  With  one  sweep 
of  the  hand  he  reached  oot  and  snatched  the  oMwig  oi 

blue  paper  from  Mary  Lockwood'a  fingeri.  Andwl 
beheld  that  movement  a  littk  alann-I«i«  lOBiewhefe 
up  at  the  peak  of  my  brain  went  off  wiA  a  dang. 
Some  remote  cave-man  ancestor  of  mine  stirred  m  his 

grave.   I  saw  red.  ,  - 

With  one  unreasoned  and  unreasoning  •!"*»«  i 

reachedLatrenie,  cryingtothegiriasi  went:     Get 

out  of  this  house!   Get  out— quick r 

That  was  all  I  said.  It  was  all  I  had  a  diance  to 
say,  for  LatreiUe  was  suddenly  taking  up  all  my  attw- 
tion.  That  sauve  brigand,  instead  of  retreating,  cau^ 
and  held  the  sUp  of  paper  between  his  teeth  and  squared 
for  combat    And  combat  was  what  he  got 

We  struck  and  countered  and  denched  and  went  to 
the  floor  together,  still  striking  blindly  at  eadi  other's 
faces  as  we  threshed  and  rolled  about  there.    We  sent 
a  chair  spinnir^,  and  a  table  went  over  like  a  mne- 
pia   We  wheezed  and  gasped  and  dumped  agamstOie 
basdward  and  flopped  again  out  into  open  space    Yet 
I  tore  that  slip  of  paper  from  between  Latrcille's  teeth, 
and  macerated  it  between  my  own.  as  we  contmued  to 
pound  and  thump  and  writhe  about  the  dusty  floor. 
And  I  thmk  I  would  have  worsted  Latreille,  if  I'd  been 
given  half  a  diance,  for  into  that  onslaught  of  mine 
virent  the  pent-up  fury  of  many  wedcs  and  months 
of  sdf-corroding  hate.  But  that  worthy  known  as  Tlw 
Doc  deemed  it  wise  to  take  a  hand  in  the  struggle  His 
interference  assumed  the  form  of  a  btow  with  a  diair- 


i 


344    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

tack,  a  blow  wUdi  imtit  hvn  stanned  uie  for  a 
nNot  or  two^  f or  when  I  was  able  to  tbfaik  dcarljr 

Latraffle  tad  at  pamtd  down,  wilk  am  ktm  on  my 
ctatt  and  old  Crattjr  ftttttooad  at  tta  door  wMi  a  Coll 
fvvolvtr  in  hit  hand.  Tta  next  nwoMnl  LatreiUe 
forcod  my  writtt  down  h  front  of  me,  |erlred  ;  hand- 
kerchief from  my  pocket,  and  widi  it  tied  my  t^Maed 
hands  ck>ie  togcUier.  llien  ta  turned  and  curtly  mo- 
tioned to  Crotty. 

'Here,"  ta  commanded,  '^rinir  that  gun  and  gtiard 
this  pin^taadl  If  ta  triee  anythh«,  let  hhn  have  it, 
and  have  it  food  r 

Skmly  and  deliberately  Latreilte  rote  to  his  feet 
He  paused  for  a  moment  to  wipe  tta  btood  and  dost 
from  his  face.  Then  ta  tamed  to  Mary  Lodcwood, 
wta  stood  with  her  back  against  the  wall  and  her  tightly 
clenched  fists  pressed  ctose  to  Iw  sides.  Sta  was  very 
white,  white  to  die  1^  But  it  wasn't  fear  duit  held 
her  there.  It  was  a  sort  of  ooferless  h»t  of  hid^pia- 
tion,  a  fusing  of  rage  and  walehftdness  whidi  sta 
seemed  at  a  toss  to  expiess  in  eiAer  word  or  actkm. 

''Now  yoo,"  balked  out  Latreille,  motioning  her  to 
die  desk, 'Hnata  good  on  that  paper.   And  do  it  quick  I" 

Mary  surveyed  him,  silently.  studkNSsly,  deliberatdy. 
He  was,  apparently,  something  startlm^  new  in  her 
career,  somethmg  which  sta  seemed  unable  to  fathom. 
But  he*d  by  no  means  intimidated  her.  For.  hstead  of 
answering  him,  sta  sgcke  to  me. 

"Witter,**  she  called  out,  watching  her  enemy  as  sta 
spoke.    "Witter,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do?" 

I  rwaembcred  Lieutenant  Edton  and  his  maisip.  I 


THE  NIL&GSEEN  ROADSTER       345 


fmHnbtnd  ogr  own 

wti  •  liclfir  to  !!»/•  few* 


^DonliillMtdiijrcNi,' 


tiNtti»t 


IcnitdiyWlMr.   Andl 


katwtet 


Ae  1ii4  iliWi^  »>»^  •^'^**  ^  ^ 


tgria  Yet  wl»t  Ae  ^  Af«  I  fta«l  to  iiii«l«tii^ 

«M.  f«r  ftllMliOII  1VM  cope  wow  C«B»«Wd  «0  Wt  Old 


fof  BQT 


•coodM  eoTtffaf  »  wWi  «!•  COl  »«volttr  «a  re- 


fmiwlty  »d  UiiiiliiiiiinMlsr 


|Dfll«  BM 


tftfOI^^ 


ifl 


to  get  off  tet  floor.   So  1  toy  Awe  itB^tag 

,Mipon  I itndied mf own tOBgdi of liflak  imOitd 
tiw ffiAdrg oieiturned ibom 0m toem.  AaA^atnl 
aiiniiiofe.lw&doldCrottj. 

Then  I  iM^wd  ilct^d    A.  I  did  »  I  wddenly 
twitted  inr  li««l Md  *««d  t«mwd  th^door. 

■B  tte  .tftactfi  of  my  long.* 
U^tMt^t&^tmaO^MlhiAfsmiMhAom.   Bt«t 

it  al«><l^  wmefl^  A.  wlildi  I  lad  ex^^ted  it  to 
da  Itc«i«dOottytoi^«i«<!rfdifyori^^^^^ 
der  ttmtrd  tlic  door  in  <pie«ioii.  Aad  »  tHe  ^ve^^ 
moment  Aat  lie  ewayed  tlib  mowment  I  v».utved  oat 

of  my  own.  ^ , ^ 

I  broo^  my  otHitwtdwd  kg  qp,  in  one  <ptt«  Md 

Yiekmsldbk.   I broog^l aiy  boofe-Mie fe  aw .tongwg 

Uow  egtin.!  A.  «odk  of  Ar  firwm  snd  A.^?v?«f. 

^kmiMditeiilit  AiidliwrwBitwi»fwetici%  whrt 

I  i»d  M^dpiiid.  u  m^  i^  fff^  ;rr^f^ 

lBiothedf,lfce»diwi4«rtlir  deiaf  adwdito  h^mr 


I 


346    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDN'T  SLEEP 

over  an  depliaiif  •  btck.  There  was  the  tMurk  of  an 
expkxiing  cartridge  as  it  went  But  I  bad  both  timed 
and  placed  its  &U,  and  before  either  one  ol  that  startled 
couple  could  make  a  roovci  I  had  given  a  quick  twist 
and  roU  abng  the  dusty  floor  and  caught  up  the  fallen 
wMpon  in  my  own  pinioned  right  hand.  Another 
quick  wrench  and  twist  freed  my  bound  wrist,  and 
before  even  a  second  shout  of  warning  coukl  escape 
from  any  of  them  I  was  on  my  feet  with  the  revolver 
balanced  in  my  r  jht  hand  and  fire  in  my  eye. 

"Back  ttp»  every  one  o'  you,"  I  commanded.  For  I 
was  hot  now,  hot  as  a  hornet  And  if  one  of  that 
worthy  trio  had  ventured  a  move  not  in  harmony  with 
my  orders  I  am  morally  certain  that  I  shoukl  have  sent 
a  bullet  through  him.  They  too  must  have  been  equally 
assured  of  my  determination,  for  side  by  side  tfi^r 
backed  away,  with  their  hands  slightly  above  their 
heads,  )jkt  praying  Brahmans,  until  the  ^aR  itself 
stopped  their  retreat 

"Stand  ctoser,"  I  told  them.  And  they  shuffled  and 
tide-stepped  shoohler  to  shoukler,  kidicrously,  like  the 
rawest  of  rookies  on  their  first  day  of  drill  As  I 
Mood  conten^fauing  them,  with  disgu.*^  no  my  face,  I 
was  intemqrted  by  the  voice  of  Mary. 

"Witter,"  she  demanded  in  a  voice  throaty  with  tx- 
citement  yet  not  untouched  with  some  strange  exul- 
tation which  I  coul(fai't  take  time  to  analyse,  "what 
sfaafi  I  do  this  time?" 

I  coukhi't  turn  and  face  her,  for  I  still  had  to  keep 
tliat  unsavory  trio  tmder  inspectkm. 

1  want  you  to  go  down  to  your  car,"  I  told  her 


THE  NILE^REEN  ROADSTER       347 

owr  BV  ilwrfder.  ••ttd  let  in  it.  tad  then  fo  ttnight 

iKxne.   AwlAtn— " 
"Thiif  i  ibwrd."  she  imemipted. 
**l  wint  you  to  do  it" 
«Birt  I  doa't  intend  to,"  the  nid,  ignoring  my  mas- 


•*Whyr  .       _. 

**I've  been  too  cowardly  Aoot  tiiii  tlfeidy.  Iff 
ben  quite  bad  enough,  wkhont  leaving  yon  here  lilce 
that   Sobegoodenoaghtotettnuwhatlcando." 

I  Hked  herforAattndlwaionAe  point  oftel^ 
ii«  her  so^  when  down  bekm  I  heard  Ae  qnidc  tttflip 
wd  <^mip  of  feet  And  I  Idt  in  ny  boaea  t^  ^ 
amft  be  Bdlon  and  Ua  men.  Then  I  tcoicnbered 
Mary  aiMl  her  <|ciestiaB. 

1^  tcil  yon  what  yon  can  do,"  I  eaid.  pohitinf  to- 
ward LatreiUe.  "Yon  can  ailc  Ais  man  what  it  WM 
I  ran  down  ki  my  ear  hot  Hafiow^en. 

She  waa  moving  lofwardi  with  a  ftwe  f««te  without 

learbythiithne.  But  her  brow  doaded,  at  that  ifieech 

of  nAie^  and  ahe  came  to  a  wdden  atop,         _,_j_. 

«I  dtm't  need  to  ask  l&n,"  die  dowly  aduwwledgcd. 

"Why  not?" 

'•BeeanaeliBiMrahMf-''  _^      _, 

"He  told  you?"    I  demanded,  wWi  a  vieiaia  awl 

qdte  hifolHnb»y  jab  of  Bty  barf*«ad  kHo  cm  ot 

Latreille'i  inlercoftal  ipacea. 
"Not  ^ie%,"  replied  Aeew«^tni^«l  Mary.  '•But 

it  was  Aroi#  him  Aat  I  fbond  out    I  know  now  k 

waa  throm^hfan. 
*I  thotti^  ao,"  I  moried.  ** And  Atoai^  him  yoa  re 


348    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 


now  foiiif  to  find  out  tfwt  lie  was  « liw  and  •  ilaiidemr. 
So  be  good  enough  to  explain  to  her,  LatreUk,  that  it 
wat  a  atnw-stuffed  <hinini3r  we  ran  down,  a  street- 
crowd's  scare-crow,  and  nothing  dsel" 

Latreille  dkkt't  answer  me.  He  merely  stood  there 
with  stndkms  and  half-dosed  eyes,  a  serpent-iase  SfoiBt 
of  Tcnom  on  his  colorless  lue.  It  was»  hi  fact,  old 
Crotty  who  hcoke  the  sflenee. 

"Well  do  oar  taUdn',  yom^  ic»ow,  when  ibt  right 
time  comes.  And  when  we  do^  yoo^rc  goin'  to  pay  for 
an  outrage  like  iMt,  tor  an  tmproroked  assantt  on  de- 
cent cttlMnsr 

"Wen,  Hm  thne's  come  right  now."  I  pronpdy  an- 
nounced, lor  I  had  caught  the  sound  of  Betloa's  qdtk 
step  on  the  stairs.  And  the  next  moment  tiie  door 
swuQg  open  and  that  stahvart  officer  stood  sttfhig  hi- 
tently  yet  cantioiisfyidxwt  the  comer  of  the  jamb.  He 
stood  there  squhithig  hi,  hi  fact,  for  several  seeonds. 
cidndy  mspeedhg  each  face  and  factor  of  the  situa- 
tien.  It  WHR't  wM  he  stepped  in  throqgh  the  open 
door,  howtvsr,  ittt  I  noticed  tfw  i^^y^ooldnf  servioe- 
"tiuiisi  hi  hia  own  ilg^  ha«d. 

Thafs  the  bunch  we  want.  aB  right.- proehdmad  the 
oAcer  of  hnr  and  ordo*  as  he  tnmed  back  to  the  sttlt 
open  door.  "Come  up^  boys,  and  take 'em  down,"  he 
eiAed  dHerfttlly  and  ftDwpantonahly  out  throi«h  *e 


Anrm.  I  su|>> 

atmkm 


Maiy,  at  the  answering  taait  el  ins*  qekk-tfanp- 
ing  feet,  crept  a  little  doser  to  i^r  sMi; 
pose,  had  at  fant  seeped  tet>^  and 
ofherLockwoodpiida^  Thefinhof 


THE  NILE- jREEN  ROADSTER       349 

^  ftnnge  hcu,  the  fffl  itraiifer  experknces  ol  that 
ni^  Mcmed  to  have  brought  about  aonie  fioal  and 
urfooked  for  subjugation  ol  her  ipirit    Atleart,ioI 

^lought 

"Coofcta't  you  tnlce  me  away.  Witterr  ihe  aiked  a 
Htfle  weakly  and  also  a  little  wistfully.  Yettherewaf 
fometfaing  about  the  very  tone  of  her  voice  whidi 
■cnt  a  Anil  through  my  tired  body.  And  that  tfmtt 
gave  me  boldness  enough  to  reach  out  a  proprietory 
arm  wd  kt  tiie  weight  of  her  body  rest  against  k. 

"You  won't  want  us,  will  you,  Belton?"  I  deawnded, 
and  that  lonf-l^g«l  young  officer  stared  >bout  at  us 
abstractedly,  for  a  moment  or  two,  before  rcp^piiig. 
When  he  turned  away  he  did  so  to  hide  rAiat  mmd 
to  be  a  slowly  widening  smile. 

**These  are  the  folks  I  \Tant,"  he  relorted,  wlA  a 
hand-wave  toward  his  three  prisoners.  Aai  wHtrn^ 
wasting  further  breath  or  time  on  Asm  I  h€^iill«y 
out  and  down  to  the  Nite-green  roadslcc 

"No;  let  me,**  she  said  as  she  aetieed  my  mdvcmeat 
to  mount  to  the  driver's  se^  lirt  she  was  «NBt  for 
teveral  minti^s  as  we  tiireadad  oar  wi^  «rt  i^"<# 
the  quiet  a.-^  shadowy  streets.  ^ 

"Witter."  she  said  at  tost  wid  wii  »  W^  *>• 
must  tfiidc  r man— an  awful  cowafd** 

"/  was  ^  eoward.'*  I  prodahned  oirt  of  my  sadden 
n^Mry  of  iriiid.  For  Aert  were  ecftain  ti^  wU^ 
wo^  be  terrftljr  hafd  to  forget 

"You?**  she  cried.  "After  what  I*ve  just  seen? 
Aftw  what  ymfvesfed  me  from?  Oh.  how  you  must 


I 


3SO    THE  MAN  WHO  COULDNT  SLEEP 

**lfo,*'  I  aiid  wHh  a  gu^  of  my  own.  Thit't  net 
tiie  word." 

''It't  not,"  she  idMortiy  agreed. 

"If t  not,"  I  rqjcated,  "for  I  lore  yoar 

She  nude  no  reeponee  to  that  Iboliih  nd  mthnely 
deehtfaiioa.  AH  her  attention,  in  fact,  eeened  directed 
toward  her  driving. 

''But  I  was  so  cowartfiy  hi  that  other  thing;"  she 
persisted,  out  of  this  second  sitence.  **]viiigi3ag  without 
understaadhig,  condcmnlBg  something  I  was  onfy  too 
ready  to  do  mysdf  f ' 

"And  it  made  jovk  hate  me?* 

"No— na  I  hate  myself  T  And  her  gcitarc  was 
one  of  proteit,  passiom^  protest 

"But  yon  wnist  have  hated  me." 

''Wkbtr,"  she  said,  speildng  quite  low  and  leaning 
a  little  closer  to  the  wheel  as  she  9pokt»  as  diongh  all 
her  tiioag^  were  on  the  shadowy  road  ahead  of  her, 
"I  never  hated  yoo— «evtr!  I  ooul&'t  evw  make 
myself." 

"Why?"  I  asked,  seaicdy  knowing  I  had  spoken. 

"Bee«m  riw  ailMQitff  loMtf  jw%'' she  said  hi  a  whis- 
per, big  with  bravery.  And  I  heard  a  sihery  little  bell 
begm  to  ring  m  my  heart,  fike  a  bird  hi  an  orchard, 
heralding  «prif^. 

"Stop  the  carr  I  suddenly  commanded,  once  die 
rtid,  the  gkirfcxts  meanhig  of  those  rix  words  of  Mary's 
had  sunk  tftrough  to  that  strange  eore  of  thfaigs  we 
caU  our  SouL 

"What  lor?"  demawdrd  l&ry,  meffatnkaJly  reieas* 
big  die  dutdi  and  liuowing  the  brai»fedd  4qwb. 


THE  NILE-GREEN  ROADSTER        3S« 
She  nt  stimiig  rtwrtkd  into  my  f »«  M  we  cMie  to  » 

"Bectaie  we  mult  nmr  nm  iiqrAinf  *»w»  MN". 

I  totemiily  infomied  her. 
"BtitIdoii»t«e."ihebeg«i.«why- 
nt'»  because  rm  going  to  ld«  yoa.  my  bdoved^ 

said  M  I  f«ched  out  for  her.    "And  lomelhing  tdh 
me.  Mwy.  «hat  if  •  going  to  be  »  terrafy  long  oner 


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